Between the Memory & the Moment
Author: UConnFan (Michele
E-mail: loveuconnbasketball@yahoo.com
~*Chapter 3*~
The work we're doing here, trying to figure out who Rambaldi was, what he was working on, is becoming an obsession for me."
"I'm still not sure I'm a believer."
"Neither was I. Neither was I." - Sloane and Sydney, Page 47, season one
"Your father could have been more specific with the time . . . I certainly could have been here earlier to help," he commented, his accent thick and his smile sincere. Sydney blinked, half expecting the moment, like the dozens she'd experienced in the past, to morph into a nightmare at any second.
Then she took a step towards him, taking his left hand in hers, relieved to feel the warm flesh and the nearly undetectable feel of the blood pulsing through his body. Finally she looked up, his expression slowly growing confused, matching her own. After a moment she spoke the words that had seemed to echo through her mind since she returned, although never once in relation to the man standing before her. "You're married," she croaked, her voice heavy and confused.
"Sydney," he gently let go of her hand and placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," she whispered as her father walked in the door.
"Danny," he greeted as the younger man stepped back and shook his hand. "I was wondering if you'd gotten too tied up in work to make it." In the two seconds it took the older man to subtly inspect the young doctor, it was obvious to Sydney that Jack's demeanor, and the invitation extended to Danny, was only for her benefit.
"Work can wait, I had to come and see Sydney for myself," he grinned, a smile so disarming that it had once made her knees tremble. Although they'd never made her knees weak, Sydney realized sadly as she briefly considered whose smile had made her nearly crumble.
"Sydney . . . I think we have the rest of it covered. Perhaps you and Danny should take a moment to go talk. Privately," Laura suggested as she eased into the room.
"We could go walk on the beach. How about it Sydney?" Danny suggested. Weakly she nodded as she grabbed her coat and silently followed him out of the apartment. They remained silent for a few minutes, their arms brushing occasionally as they began to leave a trail on the sand behind them, the sky growing darker as they strolled. "Your father said you've been confused since you returned."
"Yes," she agreed, unable to stop looking at him, and at the same not entirely comfortable gazing at him. This was not the man that she remembered, and as much as she'd always love him, she wondered if should have felt guilty for falling so deeply in love with Vaughn, far deeper in love with Vaughn than she'd been with Danny. In her reality Danny was dead, and in this reality she had been dead for two years.
"I don't want to confuse you even more," he sighed and stopped. Then he turned slightly to meet her eyes, "What is the last memory you have, of me? Of us?"
Instantly blood and gore, her seven month fear of bathtubs, popped into her mind. His body, cold and lifeless, and unwittingly meeting his killer months later in Romania. He was killed, just because she hadn't told him the truth. Sometimes she wondered if she could go back, if she hadn't said anything and set him free, knowing what she knew now. Then again, his death, as painful as it was, had led her to Vaughn. No matter what anyone told her, she refused to believe that it had all been in her imagination. All the pain and the pleasure, all the suffering, had to have happened. There was an explanation, and she was going to find the source of her pain and strangle it out of him if she had to.
"We had just gotten engaged," she lied. It was the last painless memory she had of him, back when they'd been mingled in joint happiness and her hidden life. Their happiness had never really been pure joy, not in the sense that she had briefly known it with another, not when so much of who the person she was remained hidden not only from Danny but from herself.
"My god Sydney, that's four years ago," his eyes widened.
"Four years?" she swallowed as he nodded. Slowly she lowered herself to the sand, bringing her knees up in front of her. Only a moment later he joined her.
"We were engaged in May of 2001," Danny patiently relayed as she nodded. "You . . . your car crashed in the spring of 2003," he explained. "That's two years. You don't remember anything?" he questioned as she silently lied with a shake of her head. Of course she remembered, but her memories were of SD-6 and a path of self discovery, a long buried family secret, and a path that had led her into the arms of a now married man.
"Seeing you now . . . Obviously, we thought you were dead, but I always had so many regrets. We began to plan the wedding. Between both our schedules, it was taking a lot of time," he explained. "We didn't want a large wedding, but you wanted every little detail to be perfect - which was perfectly fitting to your character," he chuckled, his eyes on the setting sky and his focus distant, his memory obviously on another lost life. "We were going to get married in September. September of 2003. It would have been my great grandparent's hundred and fifth anniversary . . . They were married for so long, and I'd loved them so much. We agreed it would be a perfect date. I'd be closer to starting a practice, you'd have finished graduate school, and we hoped to have a deposit for a house ready . . . " he paused and hesitantly reached for her hand. For a long pause, he studied her fingers against his larger, darker hand before he released it and looked back at the sun.
"Then your father began recruiting you. About a year before we planned on getting married. You graduated that January, nine months before we were supposed to get married, with your master's . . . Out of the blue your father starts recruiting you to be a CIA agent, obviously not caring that you seemed perfectly happy teaching at St. Jude's . . . I behaved badly Sydney," he whispered as he met her eyes. "I had wanted a wife who taught high school English and Literature, who would be home. I wasn't crazy over the thought of you risking your life for your country. Not when I thought it was more your father's dream than yours . . . We could never reach a compromise over it. I didn't want you to even consider it, but you couldn't help yourself. You considered it and decided it was what you wanted. You began orientation and were preparing to leave St. Jude's . . . I hated the idea Sydney, I was crazy with anger . . . "
"We broke up?"
"I had begun to move out when you . . . When we lost you," he admitted. "We weren't ready to tell anyone, but we had begun to discuss calling off the wedding . . . I loved you Sydney. Very much, but you weren't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the type of lives we wanted didn't match up . . . It was very difficult for me when you died. I wasn't in love with you anymore, but I cared about you a great deal, and still do. That's why I'm here today. I wanted to help . . . I was also hoping we could be friends. If you recalled my actions prior to your disappearance, you'd probably agree that I don't deserve the chance, but I was hoping for it anyway."
"You're married," Sydney repeated as Danny chuckled and nodded.
"Yes. For about a year now."
"A year," she choked, her eyes wide.
"Yes," he replied. "You met her a few times. Her name is Lucy, she's a nurse at the hospital."
"I think I remember," she sincerely replied. "Peds nurse, right?"
"That's the one," he smiled. "She's wonderful . . . I think you liked her when you met her."
"I did," she sniffled softly. "I'm happy for you."
"I was a bit afraid to come see you today," Danny admitted. "We hadn't parted on the best of terms . . . I was always sorry about how things ended. I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you, alive . . ."
"Thank you," Sydney reached for his hand and lightly squeezed it.
Danny squeezed back, his expression confused despite the half smile on his lips. "For what?"
"For being here . . . For taking the time to see me, to explain things to me . . ."
"You're an incredible woman Sydney, but I don't know of many who return from the dead. I had to see it for myself," he quirked as she silently smiled, having missed his quirky sense of humor. "So, what are you going to do?"
"Work for the CIA," she sighed, letting go of his hand and studying the sand. After a moment, she met his eyes and elaborated, knowing she owed him at least that much. "Whatever happened to me, I can't understand it on my own, and I certainly can't find out what happened to me or who did this to me or why, without the CIA's resources."
"What about St. Jude's?"
"I visited," Sydney smiled at the recent trip. "Everyone was . . . shocked, but wonderful," she recalled softly. "Dixon said they'd always have a job for me, if I wanted one. Maybe not teaching, but there'd always be a job."
"He's a good man."
"He is," she agreed.
"So, do you like it? Working for the CIA?"
Surprisingly enough, it took all of her willpower to bite back a "yes". Of course she liked it, although she wondered what essential elements would be lacking when she began. Would they have Marshall? Carrie? Dixon would be absent, but he hadn't been her partner much of late. Jack would no doubt be there, watching her like a hawk, and Devlin. She assumed Kendall would be supervising her as well, since Jack had referred to another director in conjunction with Devlin. Then there was Vaughn, a name that brought up a massive emotional landmine that she was far from ready to tackle yet, but she knew working at the CIA without him would be notably lacking.
"I haven't started yet," she reasoned. "My security clearance goes into effect in less than a week," she explained.
"What are you going to do in the meantime?"
"Unpack," Sydney grinned. "Get the apartment in order. I'm going on a trip this weekend."
"This weekend?" Danny's eyes widened as she briefly looked at him.
"There's something I need to see," she softly replied, her eyes back on the sunset. Silence descended the couple for just a moment before she looked at him, "Please don't mention this to anyone. I haven't told my parents yet. They seem hesitant to let me move out, but this is something I need to do before I can start understanding what happened to me. Do you understand?"
"Of course Sydney," he nodded. "If there's anything you need, anything I can do . . . I know I told you we didn't part on the best of terms, but I hope you know you can turn to me. I might not agree with what your job, but I'd like you to know I'm your friend."
"I know," she agreed. "I'm glad you came."
"When you told me what your father did, recruiting you, wanting you to work for the government, I wanted to save you," he whispered, looking away from her. "You didn't need me to save you Sydney, you never did . . . You've found yourself," Danny explained. "I don't remember you ever being so certain of yourself and of what you wanted. You were always a bit shy, a bit withdrawn. I know it had nothing to do with my influence, but I'm proud of you," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her. Quickly he pulled her towards him, dropping a light kiss against her temple before pulling back.
Sydney smiled as they sat in silence, the sky growing dark and the temperature rapidly descending. After a few moments he stood, offering her his hand in a gesture of chivalry and walked with her back to the apartment.
Wherever she'd been, whatever she'd been doing for the last two years, Sydney sincerely doubted she'd missed transatlantic flights. Even with her dislike of long flights and the inevitable jetlag, her plans could not be changed. Less than forty-eight hours ago she'd been moving into her new apartment, sitting on cardboard boxes and listening to how Danny and Lucy became involved as Laura insisted they eat something.
Now she sat in business class, waiting for their landing, scheduled for less than half an hour. Sunday's in October weren't especially hectic travel days, and she hoped her return would be as smooth. Particularly compared to the frantic work she'd endured to not only find the money for the flight but to come up with an alias and disguise to get on the flight. If it hadn't been for a late night commercial for discounted flights on non-peak hours and the remnants of an old Halloween costume, she would have been in an even bigger predicament. There was no doubt in her mind that Jack Bristow had taken every precaution, not stopping at the thought of assigning CIA agents to watch her around the clock. This was one trip that no one, especially not her father or anyone at the CIA, could be aware of.
Her mood during the next flight would be entirely determined by the unscheduled meeting she intended to have, the sole reason she'd made up a flimsy excuse to both her parents and her friends and skipped out of the country, less than ten days since she returned from the dead. Some things couldn't be explained, not sufficiently, not before she had answers for herself. Then perhaps she could stop feeling as though she'd woken up in the twilight zone, but she refused to get too hopeful. Instead she focused on the anger, unwilling to acknowledge the other emotion that swarmed through her soul, the bone-aching numbness that could easily eat her alive if she let it.
Switzerland was a beautiful country, the only neutral country in the world. A safe haven for criminals and those who had been persecuted. Sydney was aware that the taxes were admittedly astronomical, but the people were well cared for by their government, educated and healthy, and free from the fear of war or interference from other countries. With that in mind, it left little to the imagination to see why Arvin Sloane had made his home there.
Not only did he have a home there, but according to her research, he was the CEO of a firm that specialized in appraising artifacts and antiques - to Sydney it sounded like an entirely justifiable way of getting a hold of something Rambaldi. More surprisingly, he had recently been named CEO of a world health organization. What left her only more suspicious was the lack of actual background information that was accessible on the internet, when most companies would have at least a rough sketch of their CEO's history. The thought of Arvin Sloane putting the welfare of others before himself was laughable, and the thought of him getting his hands on anything Rambaldi was just terrifying.
She'd traveled light, with no intentions of this being a long visit. Sydney would get her answers, do her best to restrain from injuring him in front of too many witnesses, and return home. There was a job to start and a security clearance that went into effect in a few short days, and innumerable questions that needed to be answered. As far as she was concerned, the man she was going to visit had taken more than enough of her life from her, once she had what she needed, she refused to let him take anymore.
It had taken a good deal of convincing on her part to even arrive in the waiting room of Sloane's office. From then it was only a few short moments for him to tell his secretary to send her in, his tone on the intercom lacking any surprise or confusion. Then she sent a forced smile in the direction of the secretary and walked in, having no qualms as she slammed the door behind her.
"Sydney," he smiled at her, standing in front of his desk. Dressed in a gray suit, he looked exactly as he always had, including the wedding band that she could always remember him wearing. "I was hoping you'd be coming to visit me soon. Admittedly, I hadn't expected you this soon, but it's a lovely surprise."
"What the hell have you done to me?" she demanded, too jetlagged and too focused on her anger to let him distract her for even a moment.
The smile Sloane sent her left the goosebumps on her arm until she boarded the plane to return home three hours later. There was a glimmer in his eye, something that had been in his eyes for years as he controlled her life from behind the desk at SD-6. The look of a man who knew something about you that you didn't even know, a man who had control over every aspect of your life, and wasn't afraid to brag about it. "I've done nothing Sydney," he placated, his voice remaining even. "I've only done what I could to insure that you had everything you ever wanted. To give you what I always wanted you to have - what Emily always dreamed of you having -"
"*Don't*!" she flared, stepping closer to him, her finger pointed in his direction. "Don't *ever* use Emily as justification for your crimes, not with me! And don't even *think* about telling me what Emily would have wanted!" Sydney demanded as Sloane rested his hands calmly in front of him and watched her continue, his face blank. "What the hell did you do to me?! How come I remember *nothing* of the last two years? How come I've woken up in this world where no one remembers anything the same way I do!?" she snapped. "What did you do? How did you do this? Why did you take away *everything* that was important to me, that meant something to me, just as I was *really* happy?"
"Things weren't perfect Sydney," he calmly replied. "There's no such thing as perfection. Not even in the apparent normalcy you thought you'd found."
"You *ruined* my life!" she accused, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, unwilling to lower her tone or erase any of her hostility. "You ruined *everything* again!! The one man I love, the one man I wanted to spend forever with, is married!"
For only a moment Sydney was confused by the way his grin changed, until he replied only seconds later. "Yes. I heard about Danny," he replied as she glared at him. "Before you take any rash action Sydney, I must warn you that there are security cameras and guards waiting to answer at a moment's notice," he calmly explained. "I've learned two things Sydney," he sighed, his tone a silent threat as he studied his hands for a moment then he looked back at her. "Nothing is ever perfect, and some things always happen, regardless of how we twist the circumstances."
Sydney took a moment to rub her temples and subtly surveyed the security feed. There were three visible cameras, and knowing Sloane, there were likely more. This was unsanctioned by the CIA, her father was unaware that she was even there, and before her was the only man who had answers. So she swallowed back every instinct and sat down on the room's couch, resting her hands on top of her thighs. Then she met Sloane's eyes, struggling to remain neutral. "Explain it to me."
"The last time we saw one another, I had finally completed Rambaldi's work. I'd spent years trying to decipher what it was, what it could do. In the end, it was both a machine and a message."
"A message?"
"Yes," he paused for a moment, his gaze far away before he looked at her. "Peace."
"You said there was a machine as well," she pressed on.
"Yes, that," he agreed, taking his eyes from hers. "I'm sure your aware of this Sydney, but Rambaldi's goal was immortality, and he'd decided the way to do that was with this machine."
"What did you do with it?"
"I used it to go back to late 1960's . . . It was around the time that your parents met, just months before actually, while I was still local to the CIA. Emily was young and healthy, working for the state department. By going back, I hoped to prevent my earlier mistakes and rectify the difficulties it had caused in your life."
"Time travel?" Sydney studied him skeptically. "You want me to believe that Rambaldi's machine was a time machine?"
"Whether you believe me or not Sydney, it's the only explanation I can offer you. From that point on, I did my best to correct my past crimes, and after you arrived, I tried to do my best to steer you towards a normal life."
"What about SD-6? The Alliance?"
"They existed for less than five years before the CIA was able to take them down," he calmly replied.
"How?"
"Given what I knew from our shared past Sydney, I was able to insure that the CIA had the contacts and information they needed before the Alliance gained too much momentum."
Sydney shook her head and studied her hands for a moment before she looked back at him, detesting that the rather small man before her was the only one who held the answers she so desperately needed. "What about my mother?"
"Ironic, isn't it?" he smirked. A moment later he continued, his expression turning serious, "Actually Sydney, it was your mother who led me to realize something. When she didn't fake her own death when you were six, and when nothing came up regarding her identity as Irina Derevko or ties to the KGB, I was left to realize that the machine hadn't worked exactly as I planned."
"What are you talking about?"
"I did manage to travel back in time Sydney, a concept that twentieth century scientists have spent decades trying to understand was conquered by a seventeenth century architect. Except there was a flaw in the machine, whether Rambaldi put it there intentionally or it was an error on my part . . . Well, I'll never be certain," he conceded. "I had traveled back in time to a different parallel."
"An alternative universe?" Sydney spat. "Are you kidding me?" she demanded, rising to her feet. "What have you done? There's no such thing -"
"Now Sydney, before you rush to judgment, you have to be aware that plenty of credible scientists say that it's not only possible but by some measurements even likely that such things exist. How else could you even begin to explain all the changes in this world then from the world you and I both knew?"
"I don't know yet," she barked. "I don't know, but I wouldn't bet against your involvement."
"I already told you the extent of my involvement. Unfortunately, even in a different universe, or perhaps fortunately in your case, some things happen either way," he softly added. For a moment she stopped the furious pacing that she'd begun and looked at him, silently waiting his explanation. "Despite my best efforts, regardless of the way I'd tried to lead my life . . . Emily was still diagnosed with lymphoma," Sloane explained, his voice cracking as Sydney slowly sat back down on the sofa, waiting his explanation. "Like before, she went into remission, but she relapsed. The doctors weren't able to catch it quickly enough . . . Her condition had worsened. There was little they could do."
"She died anyway," Sydney pieced together, blinking back her tears as the man before he nodded. Throughout the deaths and pain that seemed to sprawl throughout Sydney's entire existence, this had been their shared pain, their common grief. "You wanted to save her."
"It was one of my main goals, yes," he agreed, standing up and pouring himself a glass of water. "She had been killed, I thought, because of my crimes. The same reason your life had seemingly been torn apart on more than one occasion. So, when I found that Rambaldi's message was peace, I was a changed man. Afterall, I had spent decades of my life searching for his meaning. I wanted peace Sydney," he shrugged, leaning back against his desk and suddenly looking old and tired in his gray suit. "It turns out, nothing I could have done would have saved Emily, but I'll still never forgive myself for losing her," he whispered, looking down at his water before he took a drink.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Sydney struggling to decide what to believe. The sound of his empty glass hitting his desk caused her to look up as he broke their solitude. "So you see Sydney, you're now my only hope. Your life is my only opportunity to insure that my quest, my decision to leave everything behind and use Rambaldi's machine, wasn't all in vain. That you're safe, and happy . . . That what you had with Mr. Vaughn has the strength to carry over into this world. Your bond with him reminded me of what I shared with Emily - a bond so strong that it will never be completely severed," he explained, his voice low and full of an unusual emotion - regret. "All I can hope for now Sydney is that you have the life you always wanted. That despite my past crimes, you see that I love you like a daughter, and always will."
Sydney stood, her arms crossing instinctively as she took a step towards him. "No matter what you do in this world, no matter what you say or do or how much you've supposedly changed, it doesn't take away from what we both know you did. It doesn't take away from your crimes, the fact that there's apparently another universe out there still suffering from what you did! It doesn't change what you did to Danny!"
"Danny's alive now Sydney," he reminded her.
Her eyes slid shut as she took a step back. Sloane remained still as he studied her, pacing for just a few moments before she looked over at him, a new fear in her brown eyes. "If this is a different universe, what happened to the people in my world? My father and Vaughn? Francie? Will?" her voice grew more distressed as her list carried on.
"I don't know," he answered. "Unfortunately, given the apparent glitch in the machine, we'll never know. It's not like television Sydney, where you can flip the channel and see how the storyline has progressed from time to time. The machine destroyed itself after I used it."
"I don't believe you."
Sloane shrugged, "They're the only answers I have."
"Then why have I missed two years? Why did people here think I was dead?"
"As I said before Sydney, there were flaws in the machine. I was unaware that it would be a different universe, that you'd apparently die in this universe. I had set the machine to take you two years into the future because then you'd be thirty."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"It's not easy to explain Sydney, it was mandatory for the machine. Plus, I went back to thirty when I used the machine."
"You still took away two years of my life! The people I love! They're still out there, suffering, because again you made decisions about my life! You couldn't even manage to *help* me without making my life a disaster!"
"I can understand how you feel that way Sydney, but it wasn't intentional. You have a clean slate now, your still young, safe and healthy."
"An international terrorist organization tried to kill me in this world - how do you deem that as safe?"
"In this world, you had made the decision to join the CIA. By doing that, I can only imagine you upset whatever enemies your father surely must have. He carried the guilt of your death heavily Sydney. It was a difficult time for me as well, since I'd just lost Emily and I was uncertain if the machine would work and if I'd get to see you again."
"No one gave you the right to play God to the world. You always just *take* it! It was my life! Yes, it was horrible and painful and difficult sometimes, but it was *my* life, *my* decisions! If I ever see you or hear your name or even *suspect* your involved in my life, nevermind something that could damage the CIA or the people I love, I will make sure you live to hate the day you heard the name Milo Rambaldi."
"Sydney -"
"No," she shook her head. "No more," she decided as she turned quickly on her heel and walked out the door, leaving Arvin Sloane with only the quick echo of her heels.
Author: UConnFan (Michele
E-mail: loveuconnbasketball@yahoo.com
~*Chapter 3*~
The work we're doing here, trying to figure out who Rambaldi was, what he was working on, is becoming an obsession for me."
"I'm still not sure I'm a believer."
"Neither was I. Neither was I." - Sloane and Sydney, Page 47, season one
"Your father could have been more specific with the time . . . I certainly could have been here earlier to help," he commented, his accent thick and his smile sincere. Sydney blinked, half expecting the moment, like the dozens she'd experienced in the past, to morph into a nightmare at any second.
Then she took a step towards him, taking his left hand in hers, relieved to feel the warm flesh and the nearly undetectable feel of the blood pulsing through his body. Finally she looked up, his expression slowly growing confused, matching her own. After a moment she spoke the words that had seemed to echo through her mind since she returned, although never once in relation to the man standing before her. "You're married," she croaked, her voice heavy and confused.
"Sydney," he gently let go of her hand and placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," she whispered as her father walked in the door.
"Danny," he greeted as the younger man stepped back and shook his hand. "I was wondering if you'd gotten too tied up in work to make it." In the two seconds it took the older man to subtly inspect the young doctor, it was obvious to Sydney that Jack's demeanor, and the invitation extended to Danny, was only for her benefit.
"Work can wait, I had to come and see Sydney for myself," he grinned, a smile so disarming that it had once made her knees tremble. Although they'd never made her knees weak, Sydney realized sadly as she briefly considered whose smile had made her nearly crumble.
"Sydney . . . I think we have the rest of it covered. Perhaps you and Danny should take a moment to go talk. Privately," Laura suggested as she eased into the room.
"We could go walk on the beach. How about it Sydney?" Danny suggested. Weakly she nodded as she grabbed her coat and silently followed him out of the apartment. They remained silent for a few minutes, their arms brushing occasionally as they began to leave a trail on the sand behind them, the sky growing darker as they strolled. "Your father said you've been confused since you returned."
"Yes," she agreed, unable to stop looking at him, and at the same not entirely comfortable gazing at him. This was not the man that she remembered, and as much as she'd always love him, she wondered if should have felt guilty for falling so deeply in love with Vaughn, far deeper in love with Vaughn than she'd been with Danny. In her reality Danny was dead, and in this reality she had been dead for two years.
"I don't want to confuse you even more," he sighed and stopped. Then he turned slightly to meet her eyes, "What is the last memory you have, of me? Of us?"
Instantly blood and gore, her seven month fear of bathtubs, popped into her mind. His body, cold and lifeless, and unwittingly meeting his killer months later in Romania. He was killed, just because she hadn't told him the truth. Sometimes she wondered if she could go back, if she hadn't said anything and set him free, knowing what she knew now. Then again, his death, as painful as it was, had led her to Vaughn. No matter what anyone told her, she refused to believe that it had all been in her imagination. All the pain and the pleasure, all the suffering, had to have happened. There was an explanation, and she was going to find the source of her pain and strangle it out of him if she had to.
"We had just gotten engaged," she lied. It was the last painless memory she had of him, back when they'd been mingled in joint happiness and her hidden life. Their happiness had never really been pure joy, not in the sense that she had briefly known it with another, not when so much of who the person she was remained hidden not only from Danny but from herself.
"My god Sydney, that's four years ago," his eyes widened.
"Four years?" she swallowed as he nodded. Slowly she lowered herself to the sand, bringing her knees up in front of her. Only a moment later he joined her.
"We were engaged in May of 2001," Danny patiently relayed as she nodded. "You . . . your car crashed in the spring of 2003," he explained. "That's two years. You don't remember anything?" he questioned as she silently lied with a shake of her head. Of course she remembered, but her memories were of SD-6 and a path of self discovery, a long buried family secret, and a path that had led her into the arms of a now married man.
"Seeing you now . . . Obviously, we thought you were dead, but I always had so many regrets. We began to plan the wedding. Between both our schedules, it was taking a lot of time," he explained. "We didn't want a large wedding, but you wanted every little detail to be perfect - which was perfectly fitting to your character," he chuckled, his eyes on the setting sky and his focus distant, his memory obviously on another lost life. "We were going to get married in September. September of 2003. It would have been my great grandparent's hundred and fifth anniversary . . . They were married for so long, and I'd loved them so much. We agreed it would be a perfect date. I'd be closer to starting a practice, you'd have finished graduate school, and we hoped to have a deposit for a house ready . . . " he paused and hesitantly reached for her hand. For a long pause, he studied her fingers against his larger, darker hand before he released it and looked back at the sun.
"Then your father began recruiting you. About a year before we planned on getting married. You graduated that January, nine months before we were supposed to get married, with your master's . . . Out of the blue your father starts recruiting you to be a CIA agent, obviously not caring that you seemed perfectly happy teaching at St. Jude's . . . I behaved badly Sydney," he whispered as he met her eyes. "I had wanted a wife who taught high school English and Literature, who would be home. I wasn't crazy over the thought of you risking your life for your country. Not when I thought it was more your father's dream than yours . . . We could never reach a compromise over it. I didn't want you to even consider it, but you couldn't help yourself. You considered it and decided it was what you wanted. You began orientation and were preparing to leave St. Jude's . . . I hated the idea Sydney, I was crazy with anger . . . "
"We broke up?"
"I had begun to move out when you . . . When we lost you," he admitted. "We weren't ready to tell anyone, but we had begun to discuss calling off the wedding . . . I loved you Sydney. Very much, but you weren't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the type of lives we wanted didn't match up . . . It was very difficult for me when you died. I wasn't in love with you anymore, but I cared about you a great deal, and still do. That's why I'm here today. I wanted to help . . . I was also hoping we could be friends. If you recalled my actions prior to your disappearance, you'd probably agree that I don't deserve the chance, but I was hoping for it anyway."
"You're married," Sydney repeated as Danny chuckled and nodded.
"Yes. For about a year now."
"A year," she choked, her eyes wide.
"Yes," he replied. "You met her a few times. Her name is Lucy, she's a nurse at the hospital."
"I think I remember," she sincerely replied. "Peds nurse, right?"
"That's the one," he smiled. "She's wonderful . . . I think you liked her when you met her."
"I did," she sniffled softly. "I'm happy for you."
"I was a bit afraid to come see you today," Danny admitted. "We hadn't parted on the best of terms . . . I was always sorry about how things ended. I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you, alive . . ."
"Thank you," Sydney reached for his hand and lightly squeezed it.
Danny squeezed back, his expression confused despite the half smile on his lips. "For what?"
"For being here . . . For taking the time to see me, to explain things to me . . ."
"You're an incredible woman Sydney, but I don't know of many who return from the dead. I had to see it for myself," he quirked as she silently smiled, having missed his quirky sense of humor. "So, what are you going to do?"
"Work for the CIA," she sighed, letting go of his hand and studying the sand. After a moment, she met his eyes and elaborated, knowing she owed him at least that much. "Whatever happened to me, I can't understand it on my own, and I certainly can't find out what happened to me or who did this to me or why, without the CIA's resources."
"What about St. Jude's?"
"I visited," Sydney smiled at the recent trip. "Everyone was . . . shocked, but wonderful," she recalled softly. "Dixon said they'd always have a job for me, if I wanted one. Maybe not teaching, but there'd always be a job."
"He's a good man."
"He is," she agreed.
"So, do you like it? Working for the CIA?"
Surprisingly enough, it took all of her willpower to bite back a "yes". Of course she liked it, although she wondered what essential elements would be lacking when she began. Would they have Marshall? Carrie? Dixon would be absent, but he hadn't been her partner much of late. Jack would no doubt be there, watching her like a hawk, and Devlin. She assumed Kendall would be supervising her as well, since Jack had referred to another director in conjunction with Devlin. Then there was Vaughn, a name that brought up a massive emotional landmine that she was far from ready to tackle yet, but she knew working at the CIA without him would be notably lacking.
"I haven't started yet," she reasoned. "My security clearance goes into effect in less than a week," she explained.
"What are you going to do in the meantime?"
"Unpack," Sydney grinned. "Get the apartment in order. I'm going on a trip this weekend."
"This weekend?" Danny's eyes widened as she briefly looked at him.
"There's something I need to see," she softly replied, her eyes back on the sunset. Silence descended the couple for just a moment before she looked at him, "Please don't mention this to anyone. I haven't told my parents yet. They seem hesitant to let me move out, but this is something I need to do before I can start understanding what happened to me. Do you understand?"
"Of course Sydney," he nodded. "If there's anything you need, anything I can do . . . I know I told you we didn't part on the best of terms, but I hope you know you can turn to me. I might not agree with what your job, but I'd like you to know I'm your friend."
"I know," she agreed. "I'm glad you came."
"When you told me what your father did, recruiting you, wanting you to work for the government, I wanted to save you," he whispered, looking away from her. "You didn't need me to save you Sydney, you never did . . . You've found yourself," Danny explained. "I don't remember you ever being so certain of yourself and of what you wanted. You were always a bit shy, a bit withdrawn. I know it had nothing to do with my influence, but I'm proud of you," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her. Quickly he pulled her towards him, dropping a light kiss against her temple before pulling back.
Sydney smiled as they sat in silence, the sky growing dark and the temperature rapidly descending. After a few moments he stood, offering her his hand in a gesture of chivalry and walked with her back to the apartment.
Wherever she'd been, whatever she'd been doing for the last two years, Sydney sincerely doubted she'd missed transatlantic flights. Even with her dislike of long flights and the inevitable jetlag, her plans could not be changed. Less than forty-eight hours ago she'd been moving into her new apartment, sitting on cardboard boxes and listening to how Danny and Lucy became involved as Laura insisted they eat something.
Now she sat in business class, waiting for their landing, scheduled for less than half an hour. Sunday's in October weren't especially hectic travel days, and she hoped her return would be as smooth. Particularly compared to the frantic work she'd endured to not only find the money for the flight but to come up with an alias and disguise to get on the flight. If it hadn't been for a late night commercial for discounted flights on non-peak hours and the remnants of an old Halloween costume, she would have been in an even bigger predicament. There was no doubt in her mind that Jack Bristow had taken every precaution, not stopping at the thought of assigning CIA agents to watch her around the clock. This was one trip that no one, especially not her father or anyone at the CIA, could be aware of.
Her mood during the next flight would be entirely determined by the unscheduled meeting she intended to have, the sole reason she'd made up a flimsy excuse to both her parents and her friends and skipped out of the country, less than ten days since she returned from the dead. Some things couldn't be explained, not sufficiently, not before she had answers for herself. Then perhaps she could stop feeling as though she'd woken up in the twilight zone, but she refused to get too hopeful. Instead she focused on the anger, unwilling to acknowledge the other emotion that swarmed through her soul, the bone-aching numbness that could easily eat her alive if she let it.
Switzerland was a beautiful country, the only neutral country in the world. A safe haven for criminals and those who had been persecuted. Sydney was aware that the taxes were admittedly astronomical, but the people were well cared for by their government, educated and healthy, and free from the fear of war or interference from other countries. With that in mind, it left little to the imagination to see why Arvin Sloane had made his home there.
Not only did he have a home there, but according to her research, he was the CEO of a firm that specialized in appraising artifacts and antiques - to Sydney it sounded like an entirely justifiable way of getting a hold of something Rambaldi. More surprisingly, he had recently been named CEO of a world health organization. What left her only more suspicious was the lack of actual background information that was accessible on the internet, when most companies would have at least a rough sketch of their CEO's history. The thought of Arvin Sloane putting the welfare of others before himself was laughable, and the thought of him getting his hands on anything Rambaldi was just terrifying.
She'd traveled light, with no intentions of this being a long visit. Sydney would get her answers, do her best to restrain from injuring him in front of too many witnesses, and return home. There was a job to start and a security clearance that went into effect in a few short days, and innumerable questions that needed to be answered. As far as she was concerned, the man she was going to visit had taken more than enough of her life from her, once she had what she needed, she refused to let him take anymore.
It had taken a good deal of convincing on her part to even arrive in the waiting room of Sloane's office. From then it was only a few short moments for him to tell his secretary to send her in, his tone on the intercom lacking any surprise or confusion. Then she sent a forced smile in the direction of the secretary and walked in, having no qualms as she slammed the door behind her.
"Sydney," he smiled at her, standing in front of his desk. Dressed in a gray suit, he looked exactly as he always had, including the wedding band that she could always remember him wearing. "I was hoping you'd be coming to visit me soon. Admittedly, I hadn't expected you this soon, but it's a lovely surprise."
"What the hell have you done to me?" she demanded, too jetlagged and too focused on her anger to let him distract her for even a moment.
The smile Sloane sent her left the goosebumps on her arm until she boarded the plane to return home three hours later. There was a glimmer in his eye, something that had been in his eyes for years as he controlled her life from behind the desk at SD-6. The look of a man who knew something about you that you didn't even know, a man who had control over every aspect of your life, and wasn't afraid to brag about it. "I've done nothing Sydney," he placated, his voice remaining even. "I've only done what I could to insure that you had everything you ever wanted. To give you what I always wanted you to have - what Emily always dreamed of you having -"
"*Don't*!" she flared, stepping closer to him, her finger pointed in his direction. "Don't *ever* use Emily as justification for your crimes, not with me! And don't even *think* about telling me what Emily would have wanted!" Sydney demanded as Sloane rested his hands calmly in front of him and watched her continue, his face blank. "What the hell did you do to me?! How come I remember *nothing* of the last two years? How come I've woken up in this world where no one remembers anything the same way I do!?" she snapped. "What did you do? How did you do this? Why did you take away *everything* that was important to me, that meant something to me, just as I was *really* happy?"
"Things weren't perfect Sydney," he calmly replied. "There's no such thing as perfection. Not even in the apparent normalcy you thought you'd found."
"You *ruined* my life!" she accused, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, unwilling to lower her tone or erase any of her hostility. "You ruined *everything* again!! The one man I love, the one man I wanted to spend forever with, is married!"
For only a moment Sydney was confused by the way his grin changed, until he replied only seconds later. "Yes. I heard about Danny," he replied as she glared at him. "Before you take any rash action Sydney, I must warn you that there are security cameras and guards waiting to answer at a moment's notice," he calmly explained. "I've learned two things Sydney," he sighed, his tone a silent threat as he studied his hands for a moment then he looked back at her. "Nothing is ever perfect, and some things always happen, regardless of how we twist the circumstances."
Sydney took a moment to rub her temples and subtly surveyed the security feed. There were three visible cameras, and knowing Sloane, there were likely more. This was unsanctioned by the CIA, her father was unaware that she was even there, and before her was the only man who had answers. So she swallowed back every instinct and sat down on the room's couch, resting her hands on top of her thighs. Then she met Sloane's eyes, struggling to remain neutral. "Explain it to me."
"The last time we saw one another, I had finally completed Rambaldi's work. I'd spent years trying to decipher what it was, what it could do. In the end, it was both a machine and a message."
"A message?"
"Yes," he paused for a moment, his gaze far away before he looked at her. "Peace."
"You said there was a machine as well," she pressed on.
"Yes, that," he agreed, taking his eyes from hers. "I'm sure your aware of this Sydney, but Rambaldi's goal was immortality, and he'd decided the way to do that was with this machine."
"What did you do with it?"
"I used it to go back to late 1960's . . . It was around the time that your parents met, just months before actually, while I was still local to the CIA. Emily was young and healthy, working for the state department. By going back, I hoped to prevent my earlier mistakes and rectify the difficulties it had caused in your life."
"Time travel?" Sydney studied him skeptically. "You want me to believe that Rambaldi's machine was a time machine?"
"Whether you believe me or not Sydney, it's the only explanation I can offer you. From that point on, I did my best to correct my past crimes, and after you arrived, I tried to do my best to steer you towards a normal life."
"What about SD-6? The Alliance?"
"They existed for less than five years before the CIA was able to take them down," he calmly replied.
"How?"
"Given what I knew from our shared past Sydney, I was able to insure that the CIA had the contacts and information they needed before the Alliance gained too much momentum."
Sydney shook her head and studied her hands for a moment before she looked back at him, detesting that the rather small man before her was the only one who held the answers she so desperately needed. "What about my mother?"
"Ironic, isn't it?" he smirked. A moment later he continued, his expression turning serious, "Actually Sydney, it was your mother who led me to realize something. When she didn't fake her own death when you were six, and when nothing came up regarding her identity as Irina Derevko or ties to the KGB, I was left to realize that the machine hadn't worked exactly as I planned."
"What are you talking about?"
"I did manage to travel back in time Sydney, a concept that twentieth century scientists have spent decades trying to understand was conquered by a seventeenth century architect. Except there was a flaw in the machine, whether Rambaldi put it there intentionally or it was an error on my part . . . Well, I'll never be certain," he conceded. "I had traveled back in time to a different parallel."
"An alternative universe?" Sydney spat. "Are you kidding me?" she demanded, rising to her feet. "What have you done? There's no such thing -"
"Now Sydney, before you rush to judgment, you have to be aware that plenty of credible scientists say that it's not only possible but by some measurements even likely that such things exist. How else could you even begin to explain all the changes in this world then from the world you and I both knew?"
"I don't know yet," she barked. "I don't know, but I wouldn't bet against your involvement."
"I already told you the extent of my involvement. Unfortunately, even in a different universe, or perhaps fortunately in your case, some things happen either way," he softly added. For a moment she stopped the furious pacing that she'd begun and looked at him, silently waiting his explanation. "Despite my best efforts, regardless of the way I'd tried to lead my life . . . Emily was still diagnosed with lymphoma," Sloane explained, his voice cracking as Sydney slowly sat back down on the sofa, waiting his explanation. "Like before, she went into remission, but she relapsed. The doctors weren't able to catch it quickly enough . . . Her condition had worsened. There was little they could do."
"She died anyway," Sydney pieced together, blinking back her tears as the man before he nodded. Throughout the deaths and pain that seemed to sprawl throughout Sydney's entire existence, this had been their shared pain, their common grief. "You wanted to save her."
"It was one of my main goals, yes," he agreed, standing up and pouring himself a glass of water. "She had been killed, I thought, because of my crimes. The same reason your life had seemingly been torn apart on more than one occasion. So, when I found that Rambaldi's message was peace, I was a changed man. Afterall, I had spent decades of my life searching for his meaning. I wanted peace Sydney," he shrugged, leaning back against his desk and suddenly looking old and tired in his gray suit. "It turns out, nothing I could have done would have saved Emily, but I'll still never forgive myself for losing her," he whispered, looking down at his water before he took a drink.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Sydney struggling to decide what to believe. The sound of his empty glass hitting his desk caused her to look up as he broke their solitude. "So you see Sydney, you're now my only hope. Your life is my only opportunity to insure that my quest, my decision to leave everything behind and use Rambaldi's machine, wasn't all in vain. That you're safe, and happy . . . That what you had with Mr. Vaughn has the strength to carry over into this world. Your bond with him reminded me of what I shared with Emily - a bond so strong that it will never be completely severed," he explained, his voice low and full of an unusual emotion - regret. "All I can hope for now Sydney is that you have the life you always wanted. That despite my past crimes, you see that I love you like a daughter, and always will."
Sydney stood, her arms crossing instinctively as she took a step towards him. "No matter what you do in this world, no matter what you say or do or how much you've supposedly changed, it doesn't take away from what we both know you did. It doesn't take away from your crimes, the fact that there's apparently another universe out there still suffering from what you did! It doesn't change what you did to Danny!"
"Danny's alive now Sydney," he reminded her.
Her eyes slid shut as she took a step back. Sloane remained still as he studied her, pacing for just a few moments before she looked over at him, a new fear in her brown eyes. "If this is a different universe, what happened to the people in my world? My father and Vaughn? Francie? Will?" her voice grew more distressed as her list carried on.
"I don't know," he answered. "Unfortunately, given the apparent glitch in the machine, we'll never know. It's not like television Sydney, where you can flip the channel and see how the storyline has progressed from time to time. The machine destroyed itself after I used it."
"I don't believe you."
Sloane shrugged, "They're the only answers I have."
"Then why have I missed two years? Why did people here think I was dead?"
"As I said before Sydney, there were flaws in the machine. I was unaware that it would be a different universe, that you'd apparently die in this universe. I had set the machine to take you two years into the future because then you'd be thirty."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"It's not easy to explain Sydney, it was mandatory for the machine. Plus, I went back to thirty when I used the machine."
"You still took away two years of my life! The people I love! They're still out there, suffering, because again you made decisions about my life! You couldn't even manage to *help* me without making my life a disaster!"
"I can understand how you feel that way Sydney, but it wasn't intentional. You have a clean slate now, your still young, safe and healthy."
"An international terrorist organization tried to kill me in this world - how do you deem that as safe?"
"In this world, you had made the decision to join the CIA. By doing that, I can only imagine you upset whatever enemies your father surely must have. He carried the guilt of your death heavily Sydney. It was a difficult time for me as well, since I'd just lost Emily and I was uncertain if the machine would work and if I'd get to see you again."
"No one gave you the right to play God to the world. You always just *take* it! It was my life! Yes, it was horrible and painful and difficult sometimes, but it was *my* life, *my* decisions! If I ever see you or hear your name or even *suspect* your involved in my life, nevermind something that could damage the CIA or the people I love, I will make sure you live to hate the day you heard the name Milo Rambaldi."
"Sydney -"
"No," she shook her head. "No more," she decided as she turned quickly on her heel and walked out the door, leaving Arvin Sloane with only the quick echo of her heels.