Part Two:
Slowly, the world began to intrude upon the darkness. My mind felt fuzzy, but awake. Sounds were getting louder but still sounded far away. My eyelids fluttered as I tried to open my eyes, but I was still too weak. I groaned softly. Damn it! This was the second time this had happened to me today – and I was starting to get seriously annoyed.
Gradually my tired brain began to sort through the sounds. I heard quiet, interrupted by a rhythmic beeping. The sounds got louder, and I heard a car engine, church bells and a police siren. The sounds made no sense. Where was I now?
I finally managed to open my eyes and waited as they focused. I squinted at the bright light, before stirring slowly as feeling returned to my arms and legs. Then I almost jumped when something gave off a loud electronic siren. I turned toward the sound and saw an electronic monitor. What the hell..?
Just as I realised I was in some sort of hospital, a familiar figure rushed into the room and switched off the monitor. Dixon. I felt a rush of relief followed by a feeling of apprehension. Where was Vaughn?
I looked at Dixon, searching his face for answers. But it remained as impassive as ever. He sighed. "You're safe. You're at the Stafford Naval Hospital. You're home again." He said.
I felt confused and scared and the feelings grew as Dixon continued. "Sydney, there are no words to make this easy. It was Vaughn who came for you in Hong Kong. And what he told you was the truth."
I sat up in bed, ignoring the nausea and dizziness I felt at the abrupt motion. "Dixon...what happened to me?" I asked, and hated the fear in my tone.
Dixon looked at me. "We don't know." He said finally.
Suddenly all my questions bubbled to the surface. I hated feeling so out of control, not knowing what had happened to all those I cared about. "Where's my father? Or mom...have you heard from her since Mexico City?" I demanded. "Vaughn said Will's still alive? If there was a fire in my apartment, if he thought I was dead, how did Will survive? And...and where is he?"
"Sydney..." Dixon began, but I rushed on.
"And Francie...is she dead? Did they find her body, too?"
"You have a million questions," Dixon said. "I understand..."
"I have a lot more than a million questions!" I broke in. "I wish I only had a million questions!"
"You're going to have to be patient..." Dixon began.
"I can't be patient!" I snapped.
Dixon looked at me. "I'll talk to the..."
"I woke up like it was one night!" I growled, frustrated with Dixon, with his refusal to tell me what was happening with the whole situation. "I have a scar on my stomach that I've never seen before! You're telling me two years have past and I have to be patient?" My voice had risen all through my impassioned speech, until I was almost yelling, but I didn't care.
"Listen to me, Sydney!" Dixon said. "You have to relax."
"I think I deserve to know what happened to the people in my life!" I shot back. "Where the hell is Kendall? I want some answers!"
"Kendall is not the director of our division anymore." Dixon paused, and looked me straight in the eye. "I am...almost six months now."
I was so surprised, I forgot my anger for a minute. "Congratulations." I said warmly.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Weiss walked in. He looked slimmer and more confidant than I remembered. "How ya feelin'?" he asked me.
I plastered a pleasant smile on my face. "I'm okay." I said, but I could see he wasn't convinced. "You look great...you lost weight?"
"Oh, thanks. Yeah." Weiss said. "I sorta gave up all the foods I enjoy. I'm miserable, but I look really good."
I gave him a friendly smile, happy to see him, which he returned. Weiss looked at Dixon. "Uh, we got something." He said.
Dixon turned to me. "I need just a minute. Excuse me." He got up and left the room, but Weiss lingered for a minute.
"Sorry to be all cryptic..." he began.
"It's okay." I said. "I get it."
Weiss followed Dixon out of the room, and I saw the two of them standing outside the glass door. As I stared at them, they began to talk, and I couldn't help myself. Driven by a desire to find out more about what was happening to me, I began to follow their conversation – by reading their lips.
"We received a transmission an hour ago from Mr. Kingsley. He got the package and the decoy." Weiss was saying. "He's on schedule, aboard a train to Avignon."
Weiss handed Dixon a folder. I had no idea who this Mr. Kingsley was, but I kept 'listening' anyway. Weiss continued talking. "We've received Intel that the Covenant may be moving to intercept Kingsley and get the chip."
The Covenant? Why did that name sound so familiar?
"And we can't reach Kingsley?" Dixon asked.
"No, he's radio silent." Weiss replied. "But we do have a new lead – an address outside of Paris; a possible outpost for the Covenant."
Now that was interesting information – and information I could use. I had a feeling that this 'Covenant' definitely had something to do with my disappearance. I could use this.
"Contact the SNCF." Dixon ordered. "Have them stop the train at the next station and have them recheck Kingsley's ticket. He'll know to make contact."
"Done." Weiss said.
"And get a team in prep." Dixon added. "I want to raid this outpost."
Weiss nodded slightly and walked off down the corridor. Dixon came back into the room. I pasted a smile on my face and tried to keep my emotions under control. "I have to get back." Dixon said.
I nodded. That suited me fine. I had to do some serious thinking anyway. But first, I needed to see my father. "Dixon, I want to see my dad."
Dixon's face grew serious and I got a feeling of dread in my stomach – a feeling that was getting all too familiar. "What's the big deal?" I asked warily.
Dixon walked up to my bed. "Your father's in prison."
I felt shocked as his words sunk in. Could anything else in my life fall apart? Was there anything left? My dad was in prison?
"The National Security Council has had him in solitary for almost a year." Dixon explained. "There policy, without exception, is that he is to have no visitors."
I sank back down onto the pillows, my mind whirling. A minute later, Dixon left, but I barely noticed. My father was in prison, Vaughn really was married and I really had been missing for two years.
Tears slid down my face, but I angrily wiped them away. I had to be stronger than that. I had to think of a way to see my father. He would help me figure out what had happened to me, and what to do with the mess that was once my life. An hour later I finally let myself sleep, a plan forming in my mind.
The hospital room was dark when I woke next, but I was careful not to move or open my eyes beyond slits. Weiss was asleep in a chair beside my bed, and I didn't want to wake him yet. It was now or never.
Suddenly I gasped loudly and sat bolt upright in bed, and was pleased to see Weiss wake up and almost leap out of his chair. "What? You okay? Syd?" Weiss asked, concerned.
I looked at Weiss, my expression serious. "I think I know...oh my God..." I whispered before allowing my voice to get louder. "I think I know where I was!"
I walked along the familiar corridors of the CIA headquarters towards the Joint Task Force office, Weiss walking beside me. I was once again dressed in one of my black business suits, except it wasn't really one of mine. It was new, a gift from Weiss, since the rest of my clothes had been destroyed in the fire.
I took a deep breath to quiet the butterflies in my stomach. "There are so many new people." I said, trying to distract myself from what I was about to do. "I don't know anyone here."
"Oh, just give it time." Weiss said.
Then I heard a familiar and much missed voice behind me. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Hello?"
I turned and saw Marshall. He looked just like I remembered, as if he hadn't changed at all. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.
"Hi, Sydney? Uh..." Marshall raised his voice and enunciated carefully, as if I didn't understand English. "I'm Marshall Flinkman. I work here. Tech design and, uh, operations."
My smile broadened and I gave Marshall a warm hug. "Marshall." I said. "Of course I know who you are."
I felt so much better when Marshall hugged me back. Not everything had changed in my life. I still had friends who cared. "Oh my God, Sydney! It's so amazing to see you, I can't even really relate!" Marshall exclaimed as I let him go. "Actually, I, uh, wrote a...poem...uh, um."
Marshall cleared his throat before continuing and I felt so happy he hadn't changed. "I've lost my keys...where are they?" he began to recite.
"Sydney?" said another voice behind me.
I turned and saw Carrie. "Carrie!" I exclaimed and gave her a hug.
And felt an unusual bulge where her stomach had been. "Welcome back!" she said warmly.
"You're pregnant!" I blurted in surprise and looked at her belly.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am." Carrie said, clearly proud and delighted.
"I, uh, wonder who the father is?" Marshall said.
I looked at Marshall and then at Carrie, surprise soon turning to delight. They made a great couple. "Congratulations." I said. "Are you guys married too?"
"No." Carrie said.
"Not yet." Marshall added.
"No." said Carrie, firmly. "We're not married."
"We just haven't set a date yet." Marshall said.
Carrie turned to him. "We're not even engaged. We're just having a kid."
"Well, we're talking about getting engaged..." Marshall added hopefully.
"Not really..."
Marshall turned to me. "Well, uh, she just has an issue with wedlock."
Before I could say anything, Weiss interrupted. "Syd, Dixon's expecting us."
"If you need anything, just ask, okay?" Carrie told me, and I nodded gratefully.
I smiled at her. "Thanks."
"I've lost my keys, where are they?" Marshall recited again. "It's, uh, a metaphor." He explained.
Reluctantly, I turned to follow Weiss to Dixon's office, shooting Marshall an apologetic look. "Sorry." I mouthed at him.
When we entered Dixon's office, I saw he was accompanied by a middle-aged man with a balding head and the look of someone who worked behind a desk. "We'd like to hear about what happened last night." Dixon said, without preamble.
"I had a memory; a vivid memory of the interior of the building where I was being held." I said. "I know that it was in Paris and I remember the faces of at least three captors." I had expected to feel guilty at lying to my friend's face, but strangely, I didn't. All I had was a nagging feeling Dixon knew a whole lot more than he was telling me.
"Mr. Weiss' report says you recall overhearing voices, names, uh, including Mr. Kingsley?" said the unknown man.
"This is Robert Lindsay." Dixon introduced, when I raised my eyebrow in question at him. "He's our NSC liaison."
I nodded my greeting to him before continuing. "Yes, so far that's all I remember." I said.
"Sounds like the group we're looking for is the same one that was holding our girl." Lindsay said. "Last night there was a mass murder on a French passenger train. Among the dead was a CIA asset – Scott Kingsley."
Dixon handed me a folder. I opened it and looked at the photo of a stranger. "Kingsley did engineering work for us." Dixon said, breaking into my thoughts. "He designed an aircraft; a spy drone that could fly undetected by radar."
"Kingsley was en route to Avignon to deliver the schematics. They were stolen." Lindsay added.
"And this drone could be converted to a delivery system." Weiss said.
I nodded. "Biological weapons. Chemical weapons. I get it."
"This group, we know almost nothing about them." Dixon told me. "They refer to themselves as the 'Covenant'."
The Covenant. There was that name again. I felt that same sense of familiarity I had had before. Whoever they were, they were definitely involved in my missing two years.
"We have some new intelligence identifying one of their outposts." Dixon continued. "We believe this is where they've taken the chip. We're planning on sending a team to Paris to raid the building."
"Look familiar?" Lindsay asked as I looked at the schematics and photos in my folder.
"Yes." I said quietly.
"See, we're going in with or without you. Lindsay continued. "Without you we're blind. You might recognise details we wouldn't even see otherwise."
"I'm personally of the mind that sending you into the field so soon is asinine." Dixon said.
"Well, Mr. Dixon," Lindsay said turning to him. "You might ask yourself just how much you want to apprehend these killers!"
I could see Dixon getting angry as he yelled over Lindsay. "Don't question my resolve! What you're suggesting is premature..."
"Perhaps if you'd listen to what I'm suggesting!" Lindsay yelled back. "Certainly not that we throw Ms. Bristow back into the field..."
"Look, I've experienced trauma myself." Snapped Dixon. "Returning to the field prematurely is as dangerous as not being trained at all!"
I could see that the two men didn't like each other, but this was too much! They were bickering like a pair of school boys. "Okay. Excuse me!" I said, interrupting them. "But I'm standing right here!" I turned to Lindsay. "I think I might be helpful in Paris. But I'm not going to even consider going unless you help me first. I want to see my father – right now."
"Ms. Bristow, just so we're clear." Lindsay told me, his tone sharp. "I have no intention of doing your father one single favour – ever. That being said, it's not your fault he's your father, and I'm not without heart as you'll come to see. I'll get you in this one time."
I felt something within me harden and struggled to keep my expression blank – but I managed, since it was a skill I had perfected during my time at SD- 6. Anger burned in my stomach. I decided right then and there that I hated Lindsay. I would never trust that bastard with anything.
"Thanks." I said, my voice expressionless.
Weiss drove me to the prison and I was silent the whole way. I just had nothing to say. I had to get my father out of there. Somehow. I needed him. Guards led me through a maze of gates and bars before leaving me alone in a small room. One of the walls was made of glass and a table and chair sat in the middle of this my half of the room. I simply sat down and waited.
I got up as soon as I sat the door beyond the glass begin to open. I walked towards the glass and bit my lip when I saw two guards escort my dad into the room. He looked tired and dirty, but still as strong as I remembered him – despite the chains at his wrists and ankles. His hair had grown and he wore it in a ponytail behind him. He also had a long, scraggly beard. But he was undeniably my father. Strong, proud and defiant.
"Sweetheart." He said. "You look so beautiful."
I felt tears fill my eyes at his warm, familiar voice. "They told me you were charged with resisting authority." I said. "Dad, I...I don't understand."
"I became obsessed with your death." My father explained. "With finding those responsible. And at a certain point in my pursuit, I needed help. So I contacted the one person I believed I could trust, given the circumstances – your mother."
"You were working with mom?" Despite everything I was glad for my parents – even if it had taken my death for them to get closer.
"At the time, she was number six on the CIA's most wanted list. The National Security Council – primarily Robert Lindsay...have you met him?"
"Yes." I said flatly, even coldly.
"He discovered that I was collaborating with your mother, so he threatened me, questioning my allegiance to this country." Dad explained. "He chose to make an example of me – an NSC power play – and here we are. I was told you have a memory? That you believe you were being held in Paris?"
Carefully I slid my fingers to my watch and over the cool face until I found a small button. I pressed it. "It's an anti-eavesdropping device." I told my father. "I got it from Marshall. We have 90 seconds. Dad, I don't remember a thing."
He looked at me, confused and surprised. "What?"
"I read Dixon's lips when he was talking outside my hospital room. I just made it up to get leverage. And...and now they want to send me on a mission!"
"Leverage?" Dad asked. "For what?"
I spoke softly and quickly. "To see you. They told me I couldn't see you and...I needed to. Dad, I don't know if I can explain what it's like waking up and having everything be different. My friends are gone and I have no job, I have no home and Vaughn's married. You're in prison..."
"Vaughn what?" my father asked.
"He got married." I said and felt a wave of pain and sadness wash over me. Vaughn was married...
"Michael Vaughn is just a boy who was never good enough for you." He said firmly. "Anyway, Sydney, listen to me. My investigation into your death became even more disturbing that I expected. You must continue my work and find the truth about what happened to you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes..." I said but he interrupted.
"The only way you can do that is by getting your CIA clearance restored, having access to my private files, getting back out..."
"Dad, I don't think I can do this without you!" I said desperately.
I needed my father. I needed him to put his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be all right, that this was all just a bad dream...
"We both know that's not true." He said. "And you have no choice anyway. The CIA, I'm certain, is dubious about your return. Somehow you must get them to trust you again. If they learn you were bluffing about your memory, it's all over."
"Dad, what did you mean the investigation was disturbing?" I said, as I remembered my father's words.
"Sydney, I knew you were alive." I sucked in a sharp breath as he paused for a second. "I made a discovery that you need..."
He trailed off, his expression anguished as my watch beeped, signalling the end of the 90 seconds. My expression mirrored his. "You probably don't know this, but I love you." He told me.
But I did. I always had. "I love you too." I said as the guards came in to take him away.
I watched him leave, my emotions in turmoil. I felt so alone. I had to get my father out of there. He was the only person I could trust to help me completely and to help me keep my secrets. Because I didn't doubt that I had some. I just had to find out what they were.
Slowly, the world began to intrude upon the darkness. My mind felt fuzzy, but awake. Sounds were getting louder but still sounded far away. My eyelids fluttered as I tried to open my eyes, but I was still too weak. I groaned softly. Damn it! This was the second time this had happened to me today – and I was starting to get seriously annoyed.
Gradually my tired brain began to sort through the sounds. I heard quiet, interrupted by a rhythmic beeping. The sounds got louder, and I heard a car engine, church bells and a police siren. The sounds made no sense. Where was I now?
I finally managed to open my eyes and waited as they focused. I squinted at the bright light, before stirring slowly as feeling returned to my arms and legs. Then I almost jumped when something gave off a loud electronic siren. I turned toward the sound and saw an electronic monitor. What the hell..?
Just as I realised I was in some sort of hospital, a familiar figure rushed into the room and switched off the monitor. Dixon. I felt a rush of relief followed by a feeling of apprehension. Where was Vaughn?
I looked at Dixon, searching his face for answers. But it remained as impassive as ever. He sighed. "You're safe. You're at the Stafford Naval Hospital. You're home again." He said.
I felt confused and scared and the feelings grew as Dixon continued. "Sydney, there are no words to make this easy. It was Vaughn who came for you in Hong Kong. And what he told you was the truth."
I sat up in bed, ignoring the nausea and dizziness I felt at the abrupt motion. "Dixon...what happened to me?" I asked, and hated the fear in my tone.
Dixon looked at me. "We don't know." He said finally.
Suddenly all my questions bubbled to the surface. I hated feeling so out of control, not knowing what had happened to all those I cared about. "Where's my father? Or mom...have you heard from her since Mexico City?" I demanded. "Vaughn said Will's still alive? If there was a fire in my apartment, if he thought I was dead, how did Will survive? And...and where is he?"
"Sydney..." Dixon began, but I rushed on.
"And Francie...is she dead? Did they find her body, too?"
"You have a million questions," Dixon said. "I understand..."
"I have a lot more than a million questions!" I broke in. "I wish I only had a million questions!"
"You're going to have to be patient..." Dixon began.
"I can't be patient!" I snapped.
Dixon looked at me. "I'll talk to the..."
"I woke up like it was one night!" I growled, frustrated with Dixon, with his refusal to tell me what was happening with the whole situation. "I have a scar on my stomach that I've never seen before! You're telling me two years have past and I have to be patient?" My voice had risen all through my impassioned speech, until I was almost yelling, but I didn't care.
"Listen to me, Sydney!" Dixon said. "You have to relax."
"I think I deserve to know what happened to the people in my life!" I shot back. "Where the hell is Kendall? I want some answers!"
"Kendall is not the director of our division anymore." Dixon paused, and looked me straight in the eye. "I am...almost six months now."
I was so surprised, I forgot my anger for a minute. "Congratulations." I said warmly.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Weiss walked in. He looked slimmer and more confidant than I remembered. "How ya feelin'?" he asked me.
I plastered a pleasant smile on my face. "I'm okay." I said, but I could see he wasn't convinced. "You look great...you lost weight?"
"Oh, thanks. Yeah." Weiss said. "I sorta gave up all the foods I enjoy. I'm miserable, but I look really good."
I gave him a friendly smile, happy to see him, which he returned. Weiss looked at Dixon. "Uh, we got something." He said.
Dixon turned to me. "I need just a minute. Excuse me." He got up and left the room, but Weiss lingered for a minute.
"Sorry to be all cryptic..." he began.
"It's okay." I said. "I get it."
Weiss followed Dixon out of the room, and I saw the two of them standing outside the glass door. As I stared at them, they began to talk, and I couldn't help myself. Driven by a desire to find out more about what was happening to me, I began to follow their conversation – by reading their lips.
"We received a transmission an hour ago from Mr. Kingsley. He got the package and the decoy." Weiss was saying. "He's on schedule, aboard a train to Avignon."
Weiss handed Dixon a folder. I had no idea who this Mr. Kingsley was, but I kept 'listening' anyway. Weiss continued talking. "We've received Intel that the Covenant may be moving to intercept Kingsley and get the chip."
The Covenant? Why did that name sound so familiar?
"And we can't reach Kingsley?" Dixon asked.
"No, he's radio silent." Weiss replied. "But we do have a new lead – an address outside of Paris; a possible outpost for the Covenant."
Now that was interesting information – and information I could use. I had a feeling that this 'Covenant' definitely had something to do with my disappearance. I could use this.
"Contact the SNCF." Dixon ordered. "Have them stop the train at the next station and have them recheck Kingsley's ticket. He'll know to make contact."
"Done." Weiss said.
"And get a team in prep." Dixon added. "I want to raid this outpost."
Weiss nodded slightly and walked off down the corridor. Dixon came back into the room. I pasted a smile on my face and tried to keep my emotions under control. "I have to get back." Dixon said.
I nodded. That suited me fine. I had to do some serious thinking anyway. But first, I needed to see my father. "Dixon, I want to see my dad."
Dixon's face grew serious and I got a feeling of dread in my stomach – a feeling that was getting all too familiar. "What's the big deal?" I asked warily.
Dixon walked up to my bed. "Your father's in prison."
I felt shocked as his words sunk in. Could anything else in my life fall apart? Was there anything left? My dad was in prison?
"The National Security Council has had him in solitary for almost a year." Dixon explained. "There policy, without exception, is that he is to have no visitors."
I sank back down onto the pillows, my mind whirling. A minute later, Dixon left, but I barely noticed. My father was in prison, Vaughn really was married and I really had been missing for two years.
Tears slid down my face, but I angrily wiped them away. I had to be stronger than that. I had to think of a way to see my father. He would help me figure out what had happened to me, and what to do with the mess that was once my life. An hour later I finally let myself sleep, a plan forming in my mind.
The hospital room was dark when I woke next, but I was careful not to move or open my eyes beyond slits. Weiss was asleep in a chair beside my bed, and I didn't want to wake him yet. It was now or never.
Suddenly I gasped loudly and sat bolt upright in bed, and was pleased to see Weiss wake up and almost leap out of his chair. "What? You okay? Syd?" Weiss asked, concerned.
I looked at Weiss, my expression serious. "I think I know...oh my God..." I whispered before allowing my voice to get louder. "I think I know where I was!"
I walked along the familiar corridors of the CIA headquarters towards the Joint Task Force office, Weiss walking beside me. I was once again dressed in one of my black business suits, except it wasn't really one of mine. It was new, a gift from Weiss, since the rest of my clothes had been destroyed in the fire.
I took a deep breath to quiet the butterflies in my stomach. "There are so many new people." I said, trying to distract myself from what I was about to do. "I don't know anyone here."
"Oh, just give it time." Weiss said.
Then I heard a familiar and much missed voice behind me. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Hello?"
I turned and saw Marshall. He looked just like I remembered, as if he hadn't changed at all. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.
"Hi, Sydney? Uh..." Marshall raised his voice and enunciated carefully, as if I didn't understand English. "I'm Marshall Flinkman. I work here. Tech design and, uh, operations."
My smile broadened and I gave Marshall a warm hug. "Marshall." I said. "Of course I know who you are."
I felt so much better when Marshall hugged me back. Not everything had changed in my life. I still had friends who cared. "Oh my God, Sydney! It's so amazing to see you, I can't even really relate!" Marshall exclaimed as I let him go. "Actually, I, uh, wrote a...poem...uh, um."
Marshall cleared his throat before continuing and I felt so happy he hadn't changed. "I've lost my keys...where are they?" he began to recite.
"Sydney?" said another voice behind me.
I turned and saw Carrie. "Carrie!" I exclaimed and gave her a hug.
And felt an unusual bulge where her stomach had been. "Welcome back!" she said warmly.
"You're pregnant!" I blurted in surprise and looked at her belly.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am." Carrie said, clearly proud and delighted.
"I, uh, wonder who the father is?" Marshall said.
I looked at Marshall and then at Carrie, surprise soon turning to delight. They made a great couple. "Congratulations." I said. "Are you guys married too?"
"No." Carrie said.
"Not yet." Marshall added.
"No." said Carrie, firmly. "We're not married."
"We just haven't set a date yet." Marshall said.
Carrie turned to him. "We're not even engaged. We're just having a kid."
"Well, we're talking about getting engaged..." Marshall added hopefully.
"Not really..."
Marshall turned to me. "Well, uh, she just has an issue with wedlock."
Before I could say anything, Weiss interrupted. "Syd, Dixon's expecting us."
"If you need anything, just ask, okay?" Carrie told me, and I nodded gratefully.
I smiled at her. "Thanks."
"I've lost my keys, where are they?" Marshall recited again. "It's, uh, a metaphor." He explained.
Reluctantly, I turned to follow Weiss to Dixon's office, shooting Marshall an apologetic look. "Sorry." I mouthed at him.
When we entered Dixon's office, I saw he was accompanied by a middle-aged man with a balding head and the look of someone who worked behind a desk. "We'd like to hear about what happened last night." Dixon said, without preamble.
"I had a memory; a vivid memory of the interior of the building where I was being held." I said. "I know that it was in Paris and I remember the faces of at least three captors." I had expected to feel guilty at lying to my friend's face, but strangely, I didn't. All I had was a nagging feeling Dixon knew a whole lot more than he was telling me.
"Mr. Weiss' report says you recall overhearing voices, names, uh, including Mr. Kingsley?" said the unknown man.
"This is Robert Lindsay." Dixon introduced, when I raised my eyebrow in question at him. "He's our NSC liaison."
I nodded my greeting to him before continuing. "Yes, so far that's all I remember." I said.
"Sounds like the group we're looking for is the same one that was holding our girl." Lindsay said. "Last night there was a mass murder on a French passenger train. Among the dead was a CIA asset – Scott Kingsley."
Dixon handed me a folder. I opened it and looked at the photo of a stranger. "Kingsley did engineering work for us." Dixon said, breaking into my thoughts. "He designed an aircraft; a spy drone that could fly undetected by radar."
"Kingsley was en route to Avignon to deliver the schematics. They were stolen." Lindsay added.
"And this drone could be converted to a delivery system." Weiss said.
I nodded. "Biological weapons. Chemical weapons. I get it."
"This group, we know almost nothing about them." Dixon told me. "They refer to themselves as the 'Covenant'."
The Covenant. There was that name again. I felt that same sense of familiarity I had had before. Whoever they were, they were definitely involved in my missing two years.
"We have some new intelligence identifying one of their outposts." Dixon continued. "We believe this is where they've taken the chip. We're planning on sending a team to Paris to raid the building."
"Look familiar?" Lindsay asked as I looked at the schematics and photos in my folder.
"Yes." I said quietly.
"See, we're going in with or without you. Lindsay continued. "Without you we're blind. You might recognise details we wouldn't even see otherwise."
"I'm personally of the mind that sending you into the field so soon is asinine." Dixon said.
"Well, Mr. Dixon," Lindsay said turning to him. "You might ask yourself just how much you want to apprehend these killers!"
I could see Dixon getting angry as he yelled over Lindsay. "Don't question my resolve! What you're suggesting is premature..."
"Perhaps if you'd listen to what I'm suggesting!" Lindsay yelled back. "Certainly not that we throw Ms. Bristow back into the field..."
"Look, I've experienced trauma myself." Snapped Dixon. "Returning to the field prematurely is as dangerous as not being trained at all!"
I could see that the two men didn't like each other, but this was too much! They were bickering like a pair of school boys. "Okay. Excuse me!" I said, interrupting them. "But I'm standing right here!" I turned to Lindsay. "I think I might be helpful in Paris. But I'm not going to even consider going unless you help me first. I want to see my father – right now."
"Ms. Bristow, just so we're clear." Lindsay told me, his tone sharp. "I have no intention of doing your father one single favour – ever. That being said, it's not your fault he's your father, and I'm not without heart as you'll come to see. I'll get you in this one time."
I felt something within me harden and struggled to keep my expression blank – but I managed, since it was a skill I had perfected during my time at SD- 6. Anger burned in my stomach. I decided right then and there that I hated Lindsay. I would never trust that bastard with anything.
"Thanks." I said, my voice expressionless.
Weiss drove me to the prison and I was silent the whole way. I just had nothing to say. I had to get my father out of there. Somehow. I needed him. Guards led me through a maze of gates and bars before leaving me alone in a small room. One of the walls was made of glass and a table and chair sat in the middle of this my half of the room. I simply sat down and waited.
I got up as soon as I sat the door beyond the glass begin to open. I walked towards the glass and bit my lip when I saw two guards escort my dad into the room. He looked tired and dirty, but still as strong as I remembered him – despite the chains at his wrists and ankles. His hair had grown and he wore it in a ponytail behind him. He also had a long, scraggly beard. But he was undeniably my father. Strong, proud and defiant.
"Sweetheart." He said. "You look so beautiful."
I felt tears fill my eyes at his warm, familiar voice. "They told me you were charged with resisting authority." I said. "Dad, I...I don't understand."
"I became obsessed with your death." My father explained. "With finding those responsible. And at a certain point in my pursuit, I needed help. So I contacted the one person I believed I could trust, given the circumstances – your mother."
"You were working with mom?" Despite everything I was glad for my parents – even if it had taken my death for them to get closer.
"At the time, she was number six on the CIA's most wanted list. The National Security Council – primarily Robert Lindsay...have you met him?"
"Yes." I said flatly, even coldly.
"He discovered that I was collaborating with your mother, so he threatened me, questioning my allegiance to this country." Dad explained. "He chose to make an example of me – an NSC power play – and here we are. I was told you have a memory? That you believe you were being held in Paris?"
Carefully I slid my fingers to my watch and over the cool face until I found a small button. I pressed it. "It's an anti-eavesdropping device." I told my father. "I got it from Marshall. We have 90 seconds. Dad, I don't remember a thing."
He looked at me, confused and surprised. "What?"
"I read Dixon's lips when he was talking outside my hospital room. I just made it up to get leverage. And...and now they want to send me on a mission!"
"Leverage?" Dad asked. "For what?"
I spoke softly and quickly. "To see you. They told me I couldn't see you and...I needed to. Dad, I don't know if I can explain what it's like waking up and having everything be different. My friends are gone and I have no job, I have no home and Vaughn's married. You're in prison..."
"Vaughn what?" my father asked.
"He got married." I said and felt a wave of pain and sadness wash over me. Vaughn was married...
"Michael Vaughn is just a boy who was never good enough for you." He said firmly. "Anyway, Sydney, listen to me. My investigation into your death became even more disturbing that I expected. You must continue my work and find the truth about what happened to you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes..." I said but he interrupted.
"The only way you can do that is by getting your CIA clearance restored, having access to my private files, getting back out..."
"Dad, I don't think I can do this without you!" I said desperately.
I needed my father. I needed him to put his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be all right, that this was all just a bad dream...
"We both know that's not true." He said. "And you have no choice anyway. The CIA, I'm certain, is dubious about your return. Somehow you must get them to trust you again. If they learn you were bluffing about your memory, it's all over."
"Dad, what did you mean the investigation was disturbing?" I said, as I remembered my father's words.
"Sydney, I knew you were alive." I sucked in a sharp breath as he paused for a second. "I made a discovery that you need..."
He trailed off, his expression anguished as my watch beeped, signalling the end of the 90 seconds. My expression mirrored his. "You probably don't know this, but I love you." He told me.
But I did. I always had. "I love you too." I said as the guards came in to take him away.
I watched him leave, my emotions in turmoil. I felt so alone. I had to get my father out of there. He was the only person I could trust to help me completely and to help me keep my secrets. Because I didn't doubt that I had some. I just had to find out what they were.