MIRROR IMAGE

Rating: R.

Timeline: Mid-season 3, at least after "Blowback."

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Previously:

"The first thing I'm going to do once I'm back in my own body is slit your throat," Lauren hissed.

Sydney gritted her teeth. "Why don't you go ahead and do it now?"

"No one's doing anything," a woman's voice said from the doorway.

"Mom?" Sydney whispered.

Irina smiled, softly. "Hello, Sydney," she said. And then she shot her.

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Part III, Act 1

Sydney stared in shock as Lauren sank to the floor, right hand pressed to the fresh bullet wound marking her left shoulder.

"Ow," Lauren said, seeming infinitely annoyed.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Irina said to Sydney, holstering her gun as several armed guards filed in from behind her and headed for Lauren, who was hunched over on her knees. "That may take a few weeks to fully heal. I tried to make it as clean as I could."

Sydney couldn't form words; she just stared, uncomprehending.

Irina smiled, and turned to look at Sark. "Mr. Sark," she said melodically.

"Irina," he returned, and nodded. "Good to see you again."

She smiled. "Likewise."

"You," Sydney finally managed, staring now at her kiss-drugging captor. "You orchestrated this."

Sark inclined his head as if it were a compliment. "Of course. I've never truly left your mother's employ." He put the emphasis on the first syllable of the word.

"He's a good boy," Irina said, lips curving.

"You bastard," Lauren sniveled, secured with her hands behind her back as she was jerked up to a standing position. It couldn't be comfortable, but Sydney had a hard time summoning any pity. Lauren strained against the man that held her. "I thought you cared about me."

Sark, care? Sydney wanted to laugh.

But he looked genuinely chagrinned. "Darling, it's not like that. You know how I feel about you."

Sydney snorted, and earned an irritated look from him.

"I simply had a prior commitment."

Lauren's face was pale but set, more fire in her eyes than Sydney had ever seen. This is the real Lauren, Sydney thought, and shuddered. The blood was starting to drip, failing to soak into the leather of her corset top. It spread across her exposed cleavage, colored her arm bright red. "The Covenant will not be pleased."

"The Covenant," Sark said distinctly, "can kiss my ass."

"Julian," Irina said warningly, and it was if a mask came down across his features; the change was immediate.

"My apologies," he said to her smoothly. "My apologies to you as well, Agent Bristow, for my actions moments ago. You know I hold you in the highest regard."

From the sound of protest Lauren made, Sydney suspected the apology was for her blatant fondling of her body in front of her. Not drugging her. Of course, this was Sark; it wouldn't have surprised her to learn that he was just been apologizing for his momentary loss of manners.

"You got off on it," Lauren spit.

"Be that as it may," Sark said, jaw tight, appearing somewhat pained, "it does not lessen my respect for her as an agent."

"That's quite a relief," Sydney said, eyes narrowed. "It should be a lot easier for you then when I finally kill you."

Sark just smiled. "Now you're trying to turn me on."

"Sydney." Irina again. "You might consider the fact that he's saved your life."

"Yes, Mom, thank you," Sydney snapped. "I'm sure he had only my best interests at heart."

"He could have turned you over to the Covenant." Was that a hint of fear Sydney heard in her voice?

"Sydney, Irina," Sark said, back to his usual cool efficiency, "should we not be arranging medical attention for Ms. Reed?"

"Of course." Irina lifted one hand and dismissed the guards. They moved immediately towards the exit, pushing Lauren along in front of them. Sydney had to hand it to her: Irina Derevko's men were certainly well-trained.

"Where are you taking her?" Sydney asked, watching them.

"She'll be well taken care of," Irina said.

Sark grasped her concern more fully. "I assure you, Sydney, she will be carefully secured. It is in none of our best interests that she become freed."

Sydney gave a short nod, accepting that, and took advantage of the brief lull to take another cautious inventory of her surroundings. Nothing she could use. The room was too bare to be so accidentally. Whose careful planning? she wondered. Her mother's, or Sark's?

"You said you had my dad," she said, turning her head back to her mother.

Irina's answering smile was like a ray of sunlight, and Sydney could remember too well the days when the gift of that smile was the fulcrum of her young life. "He's safe, Sydney. I would never hurt Jack. But I couldn't have him jeopardizing this."

"As touching as this reunion is . . . ." Sark sounded mildly annoyed. The man was like dish soap.

Irina straightened, and said, "I need the artifact you stole two nights ago in Hungary."

Sydney digested this. "What for?"

"To keep it away from Sloane."

"Sloane."

The expression on her mother's face was poignantly bitter, exquisite in its subtlety. "You didn't honestly believe Sloane had changed, did you?"

"No," Sydney answered, truthfully, but was disappointed anyway. She hadn't believed it. But a part of her had wanted to. She was tired of their enmity, tired of his mind games and having to be wary of them; she was tired of a lot of things in this new world, particularly the way its twists continued to unfold whether she sought out the truth or not.

"I need you, Sydney," Irina said. "I need your help."

"Why me?"

"I need another operative. And you need your body back."

Sydney's mouth went dry. "You know what did this to me. You know how to make it switch Lauren and I back."

"I know what the disk does," Irina said. " Or what it is supposed to do. Not this. But I believe I know how it can be reversed."

"How?"

Irina shook her head.

"I don't need your help to access the disk," Sydney said. "All I have to do is walk into the CIA and ask for it."

"Except the CIA no longer has the Rambaldi disk. The Convenant does."

"While you were indisposed yesterday evening," Sark told her, "Lauren intercepted the armored car transporting the disk to project Black Hole. She delivered the chip to McKennas Cole—"

"Cole?"

"—before meeting me in Anchorage."

"We need each other Sydney." Irina looked earnest, and kind, the mother Sydney had always wanted, except she was talking about espionage.

"And after I break into the Covenant and retrieve the disk? What's the keep me from taking it back to the CIA?"

"Me," Sark said.

"And the fact that I will be holding Jack until you and Sark return with the disk."

Of course.

"Tell me this much," Sydney said. "The disk—what does it do? What does Sloane need it for?"

"There is something I have," Irina said, "that Sloane needs. I believe I can keep it from him. But in the event that—in the event that I fail to do so, this disk will be the difference between his ability to activate the . . . artifact, and the artifact being useless to him."

"How do I know you won't just use the disk to activate the artifact yourself?"

Irina smiled, almost as if she was proud of her for asking. Or had expected nothing less, and had an answer already prepared. "My word. And the fact that the rest of the components are securely in Arvin's possession. I only want to keep it from him, Sydney, I swear to you. Nothing more."

Sydney studied the situation from every angle she could think of. She had, it appeared, little choice. Refuse to help them, and remain in Lauren's body indefinitely while the Covenant did who knows what with the only way she had of getting back into her own skin. Or agree, and potentially make it home, as herself, with her father and whatever Covenant intel she could pick up while inside.

But there was one more thing.

"What's he" she nodded towards Sark "getting out of this? How do you know he isn't playing you?"

"Because I know where his loyalties lie."

"With you," Sydney said, skeptically.

Irina smiled fondly, placing her slim hand on Sark's smooth cheek. "He's like a son to me."

The jealousy Sydney felt was inexplicable, and misplaced. "Did you fake your death with him too?"

"Several times, actually," Sark said, his gaze on Irina's enigmatic face. "She's rather like a cat."

Irina laughed, and dropped her hand.

Sydney couldn't keep the venom from her voice. "And you always come when she calls."

He turned his eyes to her. "One must have some loyalties. Sis."

Sydney inhaled slowly through her nose, and counted to ten. Then she counted to ten again. It did absolutely nothing. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood instead.

"I'll do it," she said.