Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 3: Mockingbird

A/N: Denosivich is NOT supposed to be Sark-like, mountaineer143! (moaning mornfully) Where did I go wrong?!? Eyghon: You are genius, I love you! Princess Box: That's for the correction, I fixed it, (I think), but as a perfectionist, I'm inclined to point out that 'spelt' isn't a word. Spelled is. Sorry, couldn't help myself...

A/N: Ya'll are gonna love this, I think…

Denosivich performed the dead drop and dialed his handler to pick it up. Location 7.

The note he'd left was simple.

Derevko has a daughter. She's being introduced to agency. I've been assigned as her handler. Angelina Derevko. -Mockingbird 71132984

His thoughts on the situation were far from simple. Lina was just a child. He would never be able to live with himself if he brought her into the KGB, a league of Russian spies. At the same time, eh couldn't refuse his assignment as her handler. At least that way he had some module of control and could protect her. God only knew he was the only one who could protect this innocent young American girl from the cutthroat Russians. She was too young for this, top agent's daughter or not.

But, for at least a year, he'd only be training her. Self-defense and martial arts, and Russian. Khasinau's orders. He wouldn't dare send a sixteen year old on an op. not even Khasinau had that much gall.

Denosivich knew what it was to be a child in the KGB, but it was different in Russia, where he'd been trained. Rougher.

His father had been KGB. So had his older brother. They were dead now. He had started taking karate classes when he was nine, with fifteen other boys. Together, they had advanced gradually, so that they were in so deep they couldn't get out before they realized it. Calvin had escaped Russia, but the KGB had soon set up US sectors. Khasinau had found him, and he'd pretended to rejoin willingly.

Calvin Denosivich had gone to the CIA, though. Calvin Denosivich had told them everything.

Calvin Denosivich was a double agent for the CIA inside the New York City sector of the Russian KGB.

Sydney huddled in her bed and tried not to cry. It was all so overwhelming, she couldn't sort any of it out. She was sure she'd be sick in the morning. And she was sore, on top of it all. Agent Denosivich had knocked her on her ass so many times it wasn't even funny.

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it any more, her cell phone rang. Out of habit, she'd put it on the lowest setting and left it on her nightstand so, if anyone called, it wouldn't wake her mother.

"Hello?" she said softly.

"Syd?" Jeffrey's voice replied. "Are you okay? You never called. I was worried."

Sydney just knew she was going to break down, but she didn't. She was too scared.

"My mom just wants me to take these stupid self defense classes," she said carefully. After everything Denosivich had said, she didn't doubt for a second her phone was tapped.

"You sure you're okay? You sounded upset there for a second," Jeffrey said.

"Yeah, catch you later, okay?"

"Okay. Catch you later."

Sydney hung up and rolled stiffly out of bed to pull on jeans under her nightshirt. Then she proceeded to the basement of her apartment house, silently stealing down several flights of stairs.

Jeffrey was already sitting cross-legged on top of a dryer in the basement laundry room, wearing jeans and no shirt.

"Catch you later" had been their code phrase since they were ten and Jeffrey's mom had died. They had started sneaking out in the middle of the night to talk, and neither of their parents had been able to catch them. "Catch you later" was their joke.

"What's wrong, Syd?" Jeffrey asked, jumping down and giving her a quick hug.

Her nightshirt was hanging half off one shoulder, and as Jeffrey stepped back his hand grazed the bruise there that had begun forming the fifth or sixth time she'd landed o that shoulder. She winced, and Jeffrey saw the black and purple mark.

"God, Syd, how'd you do that?" he gasped, pulling her sleeve a little further down to get a look at the extent of the bruise.

"I…fell," she lied in a small voice. Fifty of so times, her conscience chided.

"Syd, seriously, what's going on?" Jeffrey asked, worry expressed clearly in his voice and his brown eyes.

Sydney couldn't help it; tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn't speak. Agent Denosivich's words echoed in her ears.

You endanger their lives as well as your own…

Sydney abruptly broke out of Jeffrey's embrace, looking horrified.

"I can't do this. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry," she sobbed, and turned to leave.

Jeffrey grabbed her arm and spun her around. She whimpered and for a second Jeffrey thought he'd grabbed her hurt arm, but he could clearly see the bruise on her other arm.

"Syd," Jeffrey said, softly. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I'm sorry I got you down here for nothing."

"Damn it Sydney!" Jeffrey snapped. Eh never cursed; it got Sydney's attention. "Tell me what happened! Your whole back has to be bruised to hurt like that! You did not just fall!"

"Okay," Sydney said carefully. "I fell a lot."

"Sydney…"

"Okay!" Sydney finally cried. "Those self defense classes I mentioned?" She exhaled a shaky breath, but she was in control now. The KGB had already taught her to be in control. "It wasn't just that. I mean, that's how I got hurt, but it's more than that."

And she told him everything, from her mother's revelation that she wasn't who Sydney believed her to be, all the way to Denosivich flipping her a zillion times--after she'd knocked him down--and telling her she had to come back tomorrow.

"It's not even that Agent Denosivich is trying to kill me," she finished. "It's Mr. Khasinau. He wants me to be a spy, by the time I'm eighteen. It's scary, and all the people, especially Khasinau, scare me. Denosivich even sounded like he was warning me." The words of warning came rushing back now. "Jeffrey, you can't tell anybody. I shouldn't have told you. God, now you're in trouble too!" she cried, tears filling her eyes again. "If they ever find out you know…"

"Syd." Jeffrey put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to hurt her. "I won't say anything else about it, I promise. Just know I'm here if you need to talk, okay?"

Sydney forced a smile.

"I know, and thanks." She paused. "But you can't even tell Jessie. I mean it."

"What are you going to tell her?"

Sydney looked away guiltily.

"Just that I'm taking self defense classes," she sighed.

"Hey."

She looked up.

"You better work on not looking so guilty. You really are doing this for her own good. I know you, Syd. Not much scares you. If this scares you, there's probably a good reason."

"We lost her, sir."

Khasinau produced an amused smile.

"You did, did you? How did that happen?" Perhaps he'd gotten a hold of more than expected. Sydney Bristow might be worth something after all.

"She received a phone call on her cell phone from her friend, Jeffrey Lexington. They only talked a few minutes, and she told him she was taking self-defense classes. Then they hung up. They made no arrangements to meet, nor did she give any indication of movement. The camera happened to be scanning the other way, and we didn't know to activate the other cameras until she was past them."

Khasinau laughed.

"Beginners luck," he muttered. "You find her, or you know the consequences," he added aloud.

"Yes, sir."

Sydney finally crawled back into bed at nearly three AM. She was exhausted, and sore, but she slept like a baby until her alarm went off.

Laura Bristow--she was Laura Bristow this morning, Sydney thought--stuck her head in and turned on the light.

"Get up, sleepyhead," she said loudly. "You can't be late or you'll miss the bus."

Sydney remained sprawled on her bed.

"I can't move," she groaned.

"You'll get over it faster if you move," Laura said.

"Mmm."

Sydney sat up for a moment, then sort of twisted to flop down with her head at the foot of the bed. She stared at the ceiling and noticed a round black spot. The light caught it just right, and it seemed to be moving. She remembered Denosivich saying she'd be watched closely.

Panic closing her throat, Sydney waited until the thing seemed to be aimed at the other side of the room, then dodged out, grabbing her clothes as she went. No way was she dressing in there.

School was hell. Every step made her whole body throb and ache, and Sydney wanted to just lay down and not move, but it hurt to lay on her back, too.

She sat on the edge of her seat in class because the back of the desk hurt her back to lean against it. In lit, the only class she and Jeffrey and Jessie all had together, Jessie noticed immediately. When the bell rang, Jessie came over to Sydney's desk instead of shooting out of the room as she usually did. Sydney moved slowly and deliberately, wincing when she slung the strap of her book bag over her shoulder.

"Syd, what happened to you?" Jessie asked quickly. "You act like you can hardly move."

Sydney forced a grin, reassured slightly by Jeffrey's presence.

"I'm just a little beat up," Sydney said softly, then forced herself to look Jessie in the eye. "My mom wants me to take these self defense classes. I started last night, and the guy teaching me seriously kicked my butt. He was making his point that I'm a rookie and he's in charge, and I'm got the bruises to prove it."

Jessie cringed dramatically.

"You mean like karate? We tried that already, remember? You quit when you broke your arm," she reminded.

"But I stuck it out for a year," Sydney said. "Just a little over eleven months longer than you."

"Hey," Jessie argued, holding up her hands. "I'm little, I break easily. Anyone in that class could have killed me."

"Anyone in that class could still break you, Jess, and you're a lot older than them," Jeffrey broke in.

"That's why I've got you, tough guy," Jessie said, elbowing Jeffrey playfully in the ribs. "So you can protect me from the big bad kindergarteners."

Sydney was quiet at lunch, and it was noticed. Jeffrey kept giving her concerned looks over Jessie's head whenever she looked away, but to Sydney's immense relief he kept his word. Jessie, however, had no idea why her friend was so silent.

"What wrong with you Sydney?" she finally asked after saying something to Sydney twice and getting no response.

Sydney blinked and looked up. She hated keeping secrets from her friend.

"I just don't feel like myself," she murmured. "May be I'm catching something."

Jessie leaned over and put her hand on Sydney's forehead.

"You don't feel feverish," she announced.

Sydney shrugged.

"I have another class after school today, anyway. I can't be sick," she said.

At one point, Jessie walked off to hunt down her partner for a science project, and Jeffrey took advantage of the pause.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm okay," Sydney said. After a moment she added, "It just makes me sick, you know? I've never kept anything from Jessie, and I hate it."

"I could tell her, then you…"

"No!" Sydney's hand grasped his arm tightly before she knew she'd moved. "Jeffrey, you promised. I love Jessie, but she couldn't handle this. You know she couldn't hide it."

"I don't think you're handling it too well, either," Jeffrey commented.

"I don't have a choice," Sydney said, letting go of his arm. "I have to handle it."

"You really have to go back today?"

"Yes. I'm scared of that creep Khasinau will do if I don't follow orders."

"You sound like you're already in."

"I'm in the system. The security system. I was scanned into the computer for a retina scan yesterday, so I can get into the facility myself."

"You never told me where it is."

"I know."

Then Jessie came back, and there was no more mention of spies of self-defense.

When Sydney got home, a shiver raced up her spine when she opened her front door. The cozy home she'd once known had all but disappeared, and what was left was cold and hard, and under watch. She hadn't even seen her mother but for a few minutes that morning, but she was sure everything had changed there, too. Nothing would ever be the same.

As she walked into her room her gaze flitted to the camera again. This was wrong. Her privacy was being invaded. Khasinau hadn't told her not to do anything to the cameras; he hadn't even told her there would be cameras.

Suddenly, Sydney tore through the apartment and into the kitchen. Pulling and leaving open several drawers, she finally found a role of silver duct tape. She ran back through the rooms into her own and ripped off a strip of tape. It wouldn't tear. She clawed at it with hands and teeth in a frenzied panic. Dragging a desk chair into the middle of the room, she pressed the tattered strip over the shiny black surface.

Then she jumped down and put the chair back into its place. She quickly changed into exorcise shorts and a tank top that narrowed to a thin strip in the back, both the same shade of turquoise blue. She pulled jeans on over the shorts, and pulled on a loose white sweatshirt that said NYC Girl in pink and purple letters.

She started out of her room and happened to look up. There, right above her door, was another shiny black dot. Setting her jaw, she went back into her room for the tape and soon had the second camera covered. She found a third above the front door. She covered that, too, and left the tape sitting decisively on the table by the front door.

Okay, that was kinda fluffy, but the first, second, and last scenes do have significance. May be it wasn't that fluffy, but it has a lot of fluffy stuff I normally wouldn't out in an alias fic, but that I have to put in this one to paint Syd as a teenager…