I pull into the parking garage at SD-6, still not believing anything that has happened in the past hour. As what Sydney told me runs though my mind yet again, I try to figure out who told her these lies. Lies so convincing that she willingly started working against her own government.

A moment later, I decide I don't care. There will be a time and place for answers, but now is not that time. Now is for proving her wrong and trying to protect her until she is able to turn in the party or parties responsible for this betrayal.

As I get out of my car, some of things Sydney told me finally sink in and I start wondering, doubting, myself. I step into the elevator thinking about something I dismissed long ago. Maybe I just wanted to forget about how easily Cole was able to break into SD-6. How easy it was for him to get past all the security measures that are in place to supposedly keep us safe.

At the time, I'd assumed that they had managed to cut all lines of communication and that was the reason why the CIA didn't send in a team to help us. But what if Sydney is right? It would explain a lot.

I shake the thought from my head, becoming angry with myself for trying to justify the insanity of this situation. Pressing the proper button on the panel, the elevator jerks to life. I lean back against the wall, closing my eyes.

As it slowly descends, I think about what Sydney said about my questioning her loyalties a few months back. When I turned her in, I'd hoped that there would be an explanation for what she'd been doing. And Jack provided one.

When I went to see her, to tell her that she'd been cleared, I told her that there were times that we don't listen to our hearts. That we don't listen to what we know to be true. And that's when we lose ourselves. We betray ourselves. But even as I sat there, trying to explain why I'd done what I had, there was something about her reaction, or her lack of one, that bothered me. But like I'd done so many times in the past, I pushed that nagging distrust aside.

The elevator slows to a stop and I push myself away from the wall. I stand, waiting for the doors to open, fingering the piece of paper in my pocket. I'm prepared to prove Sydney wrong. But when I do, what happens next?

********

"You know, I think maybe this was exactly what I needed."

"What?" I ask, my mind elsewhere.

She says my name, laughing lightly before repeating her previous statement.

"How so?"

"I've just been so busy trying to make the restaurant work, that I didn't realize how much I'd missed just doing things. Spontaneous things. Fun things." She slides a little closer, resting her head on my shoulder. "Fun things with you."

My throat tightens and I wonder for the millionth time if this is how Sydney felt every time she had to lie to us. And if it was, how the hell did she deal with it because I feel like I'm going to go insane. "I've missed doing things with you too."

Francie pushes a button on the radio, trying to find something decent to listen to. "Did you bring any CDs with you?"

I glance at her for a second before returning my focus to the road. "Check the backpack in the back seat." I'm rewarded with a huge smile before she turns around and grabs the pack, dragging it up to rest in her lap.

"So where are we going? You never did tell me," she states as she searches through the CDs she's found.

I know I'd left word for Sydney that we'd be going to Napa. But on my way to pick up Fran, paranoia set in and I realized that maybe I shouldn't have said where we were going. Then I remembered my parents telling me about this place they stayed for their anniversary. One quick call and everything was set. "Well, I thought the assignment was in Napa, but when I checked in just before I got to the restaurant, they told me I was going to check out this place in Morro Bay."

"Okay. So what is it that you need me to do?" Fran asks as she slips a CD into the player.

"Just relax and have fun." I glance over again to find her staring at me. "What?"

"I thought you said, you needed my help with this."

I see a rest stop up ahead and decide to pull over for a moment. Once I've stopped the car, I turn to face her. "I do need your help, but I want you to have fun too. You deserve a break." I reach over, placing my hand on her shoulder, my fingers lightly running down her arm. "You've been working so hard for the last six months. I just want you to relax and have a good time."

"Will," she sighs as a brilliant smile spreads across her face. A moment later, she's kissing me and for just a moment I let myself get caught up in the lie.

She pulls away and the illusion disappears. I pull her back to me, not ready to let her go; not ready to let go of the wish that this could be more than just a lie.

A moment later we separate, breathless. "Wow."

I take a deep breath. "Wow what?" I ask as what I'm sure is a goofy looking smile overruns my face.

Fran leans closer, wiping some lipstick from my face. "I still can't believe we're really doing this."

I know what she's talking about, but I can't help teasing her just a bit. "What? Going off for a mini-vacation?"

She smacks my shoulder playfully and I try to look wounded. "You know what I mean."

My expression changes back to the goofy smile as I answer her. "Yeah, I do."

Fran sits back and I swear she's studying me. For just a moment, I get nervous. I've never been a good liar. "Fran?"

"I just don't get it."

"Don't get what?" I ask warily.

"Well, when Sydney told me about your little, um encounter, last year..."

"I can't believe you're bringing this up, but since you did, what about it?"

I know I'm in trouble when I look back at her and she's staring right at me. "Well she said... No, just forget I said anything."

I lean over and run my finger very lightly along her jaw, trailing it down her neck. "Fran..."

"No. I'm not going to tell you."

I have a feeling I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear, but I can't help asking anyway. "What did she say?"

"Don't we need to get going?"

"The room is confirmed. The hotel isn't going anywhere." I lean closer, lazily draping my arm around her shoulder. "You were saying?"

She turns slightly and when I see her expression, I'm really worried about what she's going to say. "Well let's just say that there was no way that you ever kissed Sydney like you kissed me a minute ago. You couldn't have."

"What makes you say that?"

"Trust me. If you'd ever kissed her like that, I wouldn't be the one sitting here."

I just shake my head. Removing my arm from around her shoulder, I slide back behind the wheel. For the first time since we left L.A., there is not one small part of what I'm about to say that is a lie. I glance over at her, waiting until she looks at me. "Yes, you would."

********

I stare at the screen. I don't seem to be able to do anything else. All the way over here, I told myself that she was wrong. That she'd been the one who'd been lied to. I'd planned on proving it so that I could help her extricate herself from whatever group she'd become involved with. I never imagined that she would be right.

I glance around the room, acutely aware that someone could walk up behind me at any moment and see what I've discovered. I memorize the code I see and quickly sign out of the system.

I log back in, using my own ID and password this time. Opening up my email, I type in the information and queue the message. But I can't seem to send it. For whatever reason, I just can't force myself to hit send.

I'm tempted to try logging back in with the information Sydney gave me, but somehow, I doubt the results would be any different this time. Slowly, the shock starts to wear off, leaving me with the reality of what I've been doing all this time, for whom I've been working.

The numbness that has enveloped me since I first saw the screen has been replaced with a slow-building anger. Anger with Jack for recruiting me, with Sloane for using me, but mostly it is directed at Sydney for shattering my belief in what I do, for lying to me for I don't know how long, but mostly because of the fact that she only told me because she had no other choice.

I sit back in my chair wondering how long it would have taken her to tell me if things had been different. Now, I'll never know. I'm sure she'll have some explanation, and somewhere down the road, I'm sure I'll accept what she'll tell me. But right now, I don't want to hear it.

Taylor and Wilson pass my desk, whispering something about Jack Bristow and, as much as I don't want to think about her, I can't help thinking about Sydney's plea to help her. To help her father. I lean forward, reaching for the phone. I'll send the email, but I need to do something else first.