A/N: This part is for Chim, for staying up and listening to me ramble and betaing and musing and test reading and...basically thank her for everything good about this part.
Part 2: In the tears of truth...
2 Days Earlier
Sark pushed back from his computer at an urgent knock on the door. Then, the head of a dark haired agent peeked in. "What is it, Dominic?"
The agent moved inside with his laptop in hand. "I've been reviewing the information brought back from the raid in Budapest. I've come across something unusual."
Sark watched expectantly as Dominic set up the laptop on his desk facing him. "Tracking reports for one of their operations," Sark noted.
"Yes, sir. A Project Mnemosyne. It seems the project has only been active the last year, but the reports list dates that don't match the dates of any operation we've accredited to them in the past year." Dominic paused uncomfortably. "It mainly focuses on two subjects, codenamed Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. We're still decrypting files and piecing together what was damaged. I haven't been able to tie anything concretely but..."
"But you believe it's possible these reports are about Sydney Bristow," Sark finished.
Dominic nodded. "The reports have been more frequent in the last month, it seems. As if there is some important event about to take place in the coming weeks. Would you like me to start organizing a team to bring them in--"
"No. Not yet. I'll be going there in two days myself. I don't want Sydney alarmed. In the meantime, get this analyzed. Bring me confirmation. I want to know exactly what this project is about."
"Yes, sir."
36 Hours Earlier
Sark shoved open the door to the stairwell and began a quick descent. The door burst open behind him and he could distinctly hear two pairs of footsteps pounding down the flights behind him. He heard the ping of bullets ricocheting off the metal railings lining the steps.
He lifted his comm. "I'm coming out the east exit," he said, hurriedly.
"Copy that."
He rounded yet another corner. He pulled his own weapon and fired twice behind him. "Prepare to detonate quadrant four charges on my mark." It barely slowed his pursuers.
"But sir, aren't you in--"
He could see the exit, two flights ahead of him. "Now," he ordered. He scrambled down the remaining flight, jumping to the landing.
There was a roar from behind him. The screech of twisted metal. Then the crashes of concrete colliding and crumbling.
He kicked opened the exit door moving to the side of it just as dust and smoke burst out of the building behind him. A screech of tires drew his attention as a car halted just in front of him. He brushed cement dust from his hair and climbed inside.
"The transfer of the database was successful," a young blond man informed him from the front seat of the car.
"Excellent, Micah. Detonate the rest of the charges."
The driver slammed his foot onto the accelerator, bursting through the locked gates and getting back out onto the road. "We lost contact for hours. What happened? Sir, are you all right?" Micah questioned.
The ground rumbled beneath them. In the rearview mirror, they could see billowing clouds of smoke, fire and ash behind him.
Sark smirked. "Never better. Give Dominic our ETA. I want teams ready to analyze the data the second we arrive."
5 hours earlier
"Intel indicates that we need to access a terminal on the third floor. I will access that terminal. Ivan and Reese will place the explosives at these locations and then get out. If at any time you you see this man, his name is Dr. Mironov." Sark held up a photograph. "I want him taken for questioning. Micah, be ready to receive satellite upload and prepare for extraction. Are there any questions?"
Micah hesitated. "You didn't mention a source on how we came to locate this building."
Sark stared at him. "No, I did not. Let's move."
The teams began scaling a gate that surrounded a five-story warehouse. Ivan disabled security, and Sark and Reese disabled the guards at the north entrance. Once inside, Ivan and Reese immediately got to work at setting charges.
Sark moved stealthily up a stairwell, keeping an eye out for any other possible guards as he moved up to the third floor. He exited the stairwell into a nearly empty hallway. The third floor was set up with cubicles. He removed a PDA from a pocket in his gear. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, quickly calling up a central database. "Upload in progress," he said into his comm.
"Receiving," Micah chirped back.
Sark glanced at the display screen to track the progress. Suddenly, a hiss came from overhead. He glanced up in time to see a white cloud coming from the air vent in the ceiling. Then, his vision blurred.
When he refocused, he realized he was in a sitting position. His head pounded, and he was no longer in front of a computer terminal. Instead, he was secured in a chair in a large open area. There was a rush of feet towards him.
"Mister Sark, I must say your arrival here was a most pleasant surprise."
Sark focused on the speaker. It was a dark haired man at who had small round glasses and a beard. He smirked. "Mironov, happy to oblige." He assessed himself. His tactical equipment was on a table on the opposite side of the room.
"And you've heard of me as well." The man stared at him with a dark calm. "So, I understand we have a mutual friend."
Sark tilted his head. He realized he still had his watch. He carefully forced out a small lock pick that he'd embedded in the strap.
"Why, Sydney Bristow. I'm sure you must recall her," Mironov responded. "We haven't spoken in some time actually, so she might not remember me."
Sark looked him in the eye. "I assume we have business." He forced the pick into the lock of the restraints.
"Business," a smile crossed the older man's face. "Of course. My superiors are celebrating your capture as we speak. They have big plans for you."
Sark nodded, feeling the click but not moving his freed hands for a moment. A door opened and Mironov glanced over. A man simply nodded.
Mironov smiled. "Arrangements for your transport have been completed."
Sark stiffened as two guards entered the room and started towards him.
Mironov exited through the side door.
As soon as the guards neared him, Sark leapt from the chair and flung it at the first guard, knocking him to the ground. Stunned, the second shouted for reinforcements. Sark disabled him with a kick then darted across the room to grab his gear. More guards filed into the room. He only had the opportunity to grab his gun and fire several shots in their direction, before escaping into the stairwell.
1 month earlier
"Now?" the boy looked up at his father hopefully.
Sark nodded with a smirk.
The child grinned and darted out of the kitchen. Sydney was seated in a living room window seat, in jeans and cotton gray shirt. She looked down and smiled at him. "You're back. How was swimming with Daddy?"
He placed his hands behind his back, grinning at her. "Fun," he answered. He still wore the red swim trunks he'd put on several hours before. They were only slightly damp. His white hair was nearly dry. His cheeks were rosy. Sark had wanted her to come with them, but she'd told him she didn't feel up to it.
She turned away from the window. "Did you eat lunch?"
The child shook his head. "Come here!" he finally said, jumping up and down towards the door.
Sydney stood and started to follow him curiously. "What do you want me to see?"
He tugged on her hand and she let him lead her out of the house for the first time all day. The bright afternoon sun beat down on her immediately. He tugged on her eagerly to come down the steps and into the yard.
She looked around, realizing who she didn't see. "Where's your father?"
She paused as the grass ended and they reached the sand. She noted a boat at the end of the dock. She let the child's hand go, and he took off exuberantly across the sand and up the dock. She took it a little more slowly and paused on the edge of the dock.
Sark stood on the boat, wearing khaki pants and button down white shirt. He lifted the boy back onto the boat, then held out his hand to her.
She gave him a suspicious look. "What is this, exactly?"
He gestured towards a blanket spread out on the small deck. A basket sat beside it. "Lunch," he said, simply, a twinkle in his eye. With a slightly more serious look, he continued, "I thought you might need something to take your mind off yesterday evening."
She accepted his hand and stepped onto the boat. She settled on one of the seats and wrapped her arms around the boy while Sark started the engine and moved them away from the dock. A ways from shore he turned off the motor and dropped anchor. He immediately moved from the controls to the blanket and began spreading out lunch. He laid out sandwiches, plates, cloth napkins, a couple of juice boxes of grape juice and wine which he poured into two glass goblets.
Sydney grabbed the child's t-shirt from one of the benches and put it on before they also moved to the blanket. "When did you have time to do all this?"
Sark smirked. "It was a short swim." He winked at the child, who giggled. He finished spreading out the food, scooped up the kid and took his seat, placing the child in his lap.
Sydney shifted uncomfortably, eating rather slowly. Sark ate normally, mostly interacting with his son. He'd glance at her every so often, but he didn't say anything. There was just a concerned look in his eyes. "Ready for dessert?" he finally questioned.
"What's for dessert?"
Sark whispered in the child's ear. The boy leapt up and moved over to the basket. He pulled out two white pints and spoons. "Ice cream!"
He returned handing one carton to Sydney. "Thank you," she said, taking it slowly.
The boy started to smile, but then frowned and stared at her. He moved closer and pointed to one of the raised three quarters sleeves of her shirt. "Mama, owie!" he exclaimed, pointing to bruises on her arm just above the elbow.
Sydney blinked and pulled her sleeve back down. "It's all right," she told him softly. "Just eat your ice cream."
The boy frowned and looked at his father.
Sark nodded. "Go on," he urged.
The child gave searching looks at the both of them, then sat down and dug into his ice cream. A passing boat caught his attention and he turned to watch it.
Sydney blinked, set down the ice cream and took several deep breaths. She could feel Sark watching her intently. She turned away. "I'm fine."
He got to his feet and moved to stand behind her. "I know you want to be fine." He embraced her from behind.
"I just want to enjoy the rest of the today." She glanced up at him. "When do you have to go?"
"Tonight," he responded. "But I'm all yours until then."
She smiled, then giggled as the boy wiggled his way between them. She pulled the child into her lap and tickled him. Sark sat down beside her. "How do you feel?" he questioned.
The child stopped moving in her arms and looked at her with the same look as his father. She glanced down a moment and then looked Sark in the eye. She took a deep breath, then smiled.
"Safe."
11 hours earlier
It was a whimper that startled Sark from his vigil beside his son's bed. He sat up straighter. He'd stepped into the room to check on him, but he hadn't meant to fall asleep there. He looked over. The boy was completely out, sleeping on his back. His arms and legs were lazily outstretched, pouty lips pursed. His breathing was soft and even. He couldn't have been sleeping more comfortably if he was at home in his own bed. Sark resituated the light sheet over the child. But then the whimper came again.
He realized it was from the next room. He exited the boy's room, closing the door all but a crack, and pushed open the door to Sydney's room. She flailed and whimpered in her sleep as if waging battle with a wild creature. He stepped further into the room cautiously. It pained him to watch her suffer. He couldn't help but feel that he caused her nightmares this time.
He moved in closer and leaned over her bed. He grabbed one of her wildly moving arms. She squeaked, shrinking away. Then, her other hand came flying towards his face. He caught it, and forced both of her hands back against the bed. "Sydney," he called, quietly. "Sydney!"
Her eyes popped opened and she looked him right in the eye. She was breathing rapidly and her eyes searched his face as if confused. He let her go and sat down at the edge of her bed. "You were dreaming."
She sat up slowly and nodded. She swallowed, and tried to slow her breathing. "I woke you," she stated. Her eyes flew to the door. "Did I wake--"
Sark shook his head. "No, he's fine."
She covered her face with her hands and shuddered.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She shivered and let her hands slide down her face. "Sometimes I close my eyes and I'm back there. Somehow I've messed up, and it's just me and him," she nodded towards the door. "And it's all happening again. And it never feels like a dream. It feels...like it felt the first time. It hurts just like the first time. And this time around, everything they ever threatened me with happens. And I just know, if I'd spent another second there, or if it ever happened again--"
"It's not going to happen again. What you did tonight, it's going to help me stop them."
She looked away and then back at him. "But there are still things I haven't told you."
"You've told me enough for one night," he responded.
She frowned, determined. "But--"
He placed a finger to her lips. "Sydney, please. All that matters right now is that you're both here and you're safe."
She stared at him, frozen. A light abnormal laugh fluttered out of her. Then, she fell against him. He almost thought she had fainted, but he heard the cries tumble out of her. He moved further into the bed, his back resting against the headboard. "Sydney, I'm sorry." He'd thought the words would be comforting to her.
She raised her head almost immediately. She swallowed a cry and whispered, "No, it's not you." Her own expression immediately became apologetic. She touched her hand to his face. "I just...always feel like everything is a second from falling apart." Her chin quivered. "I don't think I remember what safe feels like."
He looked her in the eye and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She shut her eyes momentarily. He moved his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head towards him. "You are safe," he whispered. He pressed his lips to hers gently. She was unresponsive at first, and he started to pull away. But after a second, she relaxed and started to kiss him back.
4 hours earlier
The light in the living room window drew him to the room as soon as he arrived. As he slowly advanced into the room, he found she was asleep in a chair, curled under a blanket, a book in her hand. She looked closer to thirteen than she did to thirty. Had she been sleeping long? He was tempted not to disturb her. But as soon as he took another step forward, she turned her head. She blinked her eyes open and calmly looked up at him. She checked her watch. "You're late," she said, with a slight grin.
He returned it with a sly smile. "I had some last minute things to take care of."
She nodded and sat up straighter. She placed her book on the side table beside her chair. "What was so urgent that I had to get out here right away?"
Sark glanced towards the interior of the house. "Did you bring--"
"Yeah, he fell asleep an hour ago. He was looking forward to seeing you, so he wasn't really that interested in going to bed. It was quite the battle."
It was probably better the boy was asleep, he realized and gave her a crooked smile. "He'll see me tomorrow."
Sydney smiled, then looked expectant. "So....?"
He sighed. She looked so peaceful and at ease. He hated that he was about to completely ruin that. He held up a folder. "My team's been making progress. Stills from surveillance footage from a variety of suspected operations, as clear as we could possibly get all the faces. I need you to tell me if you recognize anyone."
Her face changed immediately. She looked at him searching, her brown eyes darting quickly from the folder to his face and then back again. "Now," she stated. Her face expressionless, but he could have sworn her voice quivered.
"The more we know about what we're up against, the sooner we'll be able to defeat them." He gave her a pointed look. "The sooner you'll be safe."
"I know that." She became engrossed in pulling the blanket tighter around herself. "I just don't know if I can do this right now."
"It's been almost a year, Sydney," he stated, cautiously.
That got him an angry look. "That doesn't make it any easier," she spat back at him.
He watched her carefully go back to needlessly resituating the blanket. "It will be better for you not to try and keep all inside."
"Now you sound like my father." She heaved a heavy sigh and blinked. She stood up, took the blanket and moved to the couch. She nodded towards the coffee table in front of it. It was empty, save a pad of paper and a pencil. "I'll tell you what I can. But a lot of it, it's still just a blur. I may not recognize anyone."
He placed the folder on the table and sat down beside her. He opened it and turned the first photograph towards her. "Take your time."
She stared at the right profile of an Asian man with long hair and goatee. He was loading crates onto a truck. She stared at the face several minutes with a thinking frown. "No. He doesn't seem familiar."
He turned the photograph over and revealed the one underneath. This one was of a man inside vehicle. He had light hair and dark eyes. He had one hand on the wheel and the other holding cigarette out the window. He was frowning, looking impatient.
Sydney nodded slowly. "Yes."
Sark lifted the picture closer for her to see. "What do you remember about him?"
Sydney diverted her eyes from the picture to a spot on the carpet. "He brought our meals sometimes. He was never in a good mood. He wasn't...in charge of anything. Just a guard. Just listened to orders." She was silent a moment. "Bronson. They called him Bronson. That's...it. That's all I remember about him."
The next picture had two men standing outside a building conversing. One held an envelope and was wearing a leather cap, and a leather jacket. The other held a briefcase and was wearing a suit. He was balding.
Sydney stared at the picture in complete silence for several moments. But when he looked at her, her eyes were darting back and forth, and she was holding her breath. He reached his hand out and enlaced it in hers. She gripped onto it tightly. "Him." She pointed towards the older man with one finger of her free hand very briefly, then tucked her hand against her side again.
"He....he spoke with a French accent." She closed her eyes, thinking. "He usually wore a lab-coat. He...he handled...the drugs." When she opened her eyes, they were glassy, but they held back any tears. She kept her voice low. "I don't know if I ever saw him not holding a syringe."
"And the other man?"
Sydney barely glanced at the picture again. Her grip on his hand tightened but she shook her head. "No. I've never seen him."
The next three photographs Sydney had no reaction to. She didn't recall a brown haired woman, or another Asian man or a short, stout man with glasses. She released his hand, propped her elbows on her knees, and rested her head on hands, starting to seem bored.
As he turned to the next picture, she gave it a once over before looking at him. She managed a small smile. "I did make dinner, if you're hungry. I could fix you a plate."
He did wonder what she'd made. But he also wondered if she was just trying to keep from looking at more pictures. "Perhaps when we take a break in a little while."
She sighed and finally gave the new picture a good look. A dark haired man at the counter of a bank. They had gotten an excellent picture of him looking almost directly at the camera. He had small round glasses and a beard.
She froze. Then, she swallowed and nodded very slowly.
"Sydney?" He reached for her hand to calm her, but she shrunk away, inhaling sharply several times.
Sark stared at the man in the picture, staring into the face. He tried to imagine the man who was smiling so brightly, the way Sydney must see him. Powerful. Intimidating. "Who is this?"
Sydney grabbed a nearby pillow from the end of the couch and just hugged it. She blinked rapidly trying to stop tears, but couldn't. He wanted to just reach out and hold her but she obviously didn't want to be touched.
She shuddered and pushed the picture away, her eyes shooting daggers. "He called himself a doctor," she whispered, the disgust clear in her voice. Her jaw tightened. "But he seemed to only know one type of treatment." Her entire body trembled. She turned to him, her eyes almost pleading that he decide that no more details were necessary.
He regretted not being able to give in. "What else can you tell me about him?"
She lowered her head and blinked. "I saw him whenever they felt I wasn't being cooperative enough. I...never heard his name and I couldn't...place his accent but." A distant look passed appeared in her eyes. "He thought I was still out and....he was speaking Hungarian on a phone..." She sniffled. "About moving some equipment to a warehouse."
"Do you recall anything about the location?"
She clenched her hands into fists as if in pain.
He leaned closer to her. "Sydney?"
She refocused, released her fists and looked at him. "That's all I remember," she said stiffly.
He tilted his head. "Or all you're willing to remember?"
She shifted more towards her end of the couch. "It's all I remember right now," she said, shortly.
He picked up the photograph and looked at it. Calmly, he stated, "Sydney, this doesn't work if you don't even try."
She turned her head to give him an indignant frown. "You think I'm not trying?"
He put the picture back down and looked her in the eye. "You're willing to try so far as it doesn't hurt too much. But if you do that, there are things we are going to miss." It came out more matter-of-factly than he intended.
Her head tilted downward and her hair fell forward, at the very least shielding her face from his gaze.
"I know you've gotten by these past few months by shying away from anything too painful. It hasn't helped you, and it won't help us right now."
She took a deep breath and her hands formed into small fists in her lap. "After he mentioned moving the equipment, he turned around." She paused as if needing time to process. "I didn't want him to know I was awake. He didn't realize--at first he kept talking."
He carefully pulled back her hair from her face, and secured it behind her ear. "What did he say?"
Her eyes shut tighter, but tears still squeezed their way out. "The equipment was to be delivered to District XXI, Csepel--" She inhaled sharply and her voice lowered to a whisper. "He realized I was awake." Her eyes opened slowly, but she almost looked confused. She reached for a pad of paper from the coffee table and quickly scribbled down the rest of the address. She didn't hand it to him or even look at him. "He just stared at me a moment, continuing his conversation, like it didn't even matter. Then, he put down his phone...and, he...smiled, but with a cold look he normally had in his eyes. And then, he...charged the machine." She held out the paper in a trembling hand.
He took it it from her slowly. "Thank you," he said. He tried to catch her eyes. "This will help." He glanced over at the remaining pile of photographs. "We can take a break now if you wish."
She shook her head. "I don't need a break. Let's just finish this."
He understood her eagerness to just get this over with, but watching her quake beside him made him hesitate. "Sydney, you're shaking." He cupped one of her hands in his own, trying to steady it.
"I know," she said softly. Admirably, she reached out and turned to the next picture. He felt her relax slightly. "I don't recognize any of them." She turned to the next picture and let out a quiet gasp at the picture of a dark haired man. He was clean shaven, but seemed to be warily watching passers-by in front of building. She straightened. "He was another guard. His English was accented by Italian. He acted as an interrogator at times." Her voice lost almost all volume and he saw her get the processing look on her face again. "The last time I saw him was the day he killed..."
"Sydney," he cut in. "You don't have to--"
She frowned. "Why? You told me I shouldn't skip anything just because it could be painful. Or doesn't that apply if it could be painful to you? Don't you want to hear that he's left handed? And about the way he smiled afterwards? I know your expertise with torture is mostly from the opposite side. Here's the chance for you to really find out what's effective." She pulled away.
He blinked slowly, then arched an eyebrow. "You really want to have this conversation, right now?"
She resituated the pillow in its place at the end of the couch. "We've been putting it off for months. But fine, what's another hour or two?" She looked down at the coffee table and flipped to the next picture.
If it would help this move along, he was willing. "Sydney," he began, gently.
"Don't recall him or her," she said shortly and flipped to the next picture.
He sighed and watched her. She really just wanted to get this over with. There was no reason to stop her.
"I only saw him intermittently. I don't think he remained there. He seemed to fly in regularly specifically for the tests. I think wherever he was from was normally a lot warmer. He was always so well tanned. I'd try South America, I think his Spanish sounded Argentinean." She turned to the next picture and stopped. It was of a man who looked like he could be at the most thirty. He was certain he saw disbelief, then recognition flash in her eyes. But she said, "Never seen him before." She reached out to turn to the next picture.
"Hold on one moment." He pointed to the picture. "You're certain that you don't recall anything about him?"
She gave him a cold frown and just shook her head. "Nothing."
She was lying. Of that, he was certain. "Sydney, I know this is difficult--"
Sydney stood, abruptly. She looked down at him. "No. That's just it. You don't know!" she snapped, tossing the blanket carelessly back in the chair. "Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it."
He rose. "Sydney. I want them to pay for what they did to you." She glanced at him briefly then hugged herself. "For what they did to all of us. In order for me to have the best possible chance to do that, you have to be honest with me. Even if doing so causes you some temporary discomfort, I believe it's worth it to stop them. Now, who is the man in the picture?"
Sydney turned away, but just stood there facing the wood paneled wall. He heard her inhale sharply and then sobs started to come.
He placed his hands on her arms just below her shoulders gently. "Please. Tell me what he did to you."
She ripped away from him and fell against the wall. "Not to me!" she whimpered, sinking to the floor. "To--" She couldn't even finish. She curled into the corner as if trying to disappear.
He blinked and stared down at her, not wanting to believe what she was suggesting. He glanced towards the interior of the house again.
She could barely catch her breath to speak. "I begged...them. I swore I'd do anything they wanted. But they didn't...they wouldn't...listen."
He lowered himself slowly to sit beside her. "He's my son, Sydney.... " He trailed off, then turned to stare at her. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
She looked at him. Her face red, her cheeks soaked, and her eyes looked almost fearful. "Because I wanted to forget. I...needed to forget." She turned away again. "I had dreams...but that man never appeared in any except one. I sometimes thought maybe he never...maybe it never happened, maybe he never existed."
"What did they do to him?" he questioned, softly.
"They took him away, a different room. I couldn't even see him. But I heard him start to cry..." Her voice broke and she slumped over. "A pain cry..." She buried her face in her knees.
He grabbed her arms and made her sit back up. He tried to look her in the eye but she immediately kept her eyes downward. "Look at me," he ordered, forcefully. Her glassy eyes lifted slowly. "Why?" he demanded.
She hesitated. "I don't--"
"Don't know? Don't remember?" he interjected, incredulously. "Try, Sydney."
Her face contorted in her efforts to control her tears. "They didn't explain it. They never explained."
"Then what did they threaten you with? What did they want you to do?" he necessitated.
Her chin quivered. "There was nothing. There was nothing I wouldn't have done if they'd asked."
"How long did it last?"
"I was separated from him for hours afterwards." She shut her eyes.
He immediately shook her. "No, look at me. How long--"
Her eyes shot open. "I don't know!"
"Why not?"
She tried to curl up again, but he held her in place. "Because I...I stopped being able to hear him. His crying, it got so loud, I couldn't....I couldn't hear it anymore."
He released her, slowly. "You disengaged."
She hugged herself, forcefully gripping her hands on her arms just above the elbow. "There was nothing else I could do." Her fingers rigidly dug deeper in her arms.
He watched her. "Sydney, stop."
She didn't seem to hear him. "I was strapped to a table. And they didn't like for me to make noise." Her knuckles whitened in her distress.
He reached for her and tried to pry her hands from her arms.
She stared ahead blankly and held her grip. "I'd offered them everything I could think of, but I thought if I cried out...they would have taken it out on him." Her fingernails were digging into the skin.
"Sydney," he said, carefully. "You're hurting yourself." He began lifting her fingers.
Her grip tightened instead of releasing. "I just wanted them to release him," she admitted.
"Let go," he ordered, gently. He took his hands away from hers, hoping she'd at least relax a little, if she didn't feel like she had to fight him.
She continued, a little louder, but with more distress in her voice. "Or kill me so they'd have no reason to hurt him anymore."
He watched her face. Then, he placed his hands on hers again. "Sydney, please. Just let go." He massaged her hands with the tips of his fingers.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, finally looking up at him. She blinked and finally let tears fall again. "I'm so sorry."
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the thumb of his right hand. "I don't blame you." He gave a slight pull and felt her hands release into his. Her arms were obviously going to have bruises on them in the morning.
She lowered her head into his lap and he smoothed her hair. She finally started to cry again.
12 hours earlier
Sydney finished placing small golden hoop earring in her ear and stepped back from the dresser mirror in her bedroom. She smoothed the calf length, cream summer dress and walked into the kitchen. "I'll be ready just as soon as I find my purse."
Weiss smiled at her. "Well, you look great, Syd." He nudged the boy sitting at the table on a booster seat. "Doesn't she look great?"
The child looked away from his crayons and paper. He grinned. "Pretty," he agreed.
Sydney kissed the top of the boy's head. "What are you two going to do while I'm gone?"
"We're thinking complete world domination, just as soon as we have lunch," Weiss responded. He was already pulling sandwich fixings from the refrigerator.
Sydney located her keys and cell phone on the kitchen counter. She gave Weiss a serious look. "Make sure he really eats."
The boy made a face. "I want apple," he said.
"Yeah, that's what they all say. Then, they steal your peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Weiss laid out four slices of bread. He grinned at Sydney. "He says this every time I come here. I've lost three sandwiches to Mr. I Want Apple and counting. I'm not falling for it anymore."
The boy giggled.
"I know. I'm sorry. he's used to eating whatever I'm having rather than eating his own." Sydney sighed and grabbed her purse off the table. "I think that's everything."
"Go," Weiss ordered. "We're fine here."
"You have all my numbers. Don't worry about interrupting me if you need anything."
"Syd, the whole point of you going to this luncheon is to have some time with Francie. I think we'll leave interruptions to emergencies only." He began spreading peanut butter on two slices of bread.
Sydney looked at him seriously. "Eric..."
Weiss sighed. "Yeah, yeah. The kid sneezes, you'll hear about it."
Sydney nodded, satisfied. She went over and knelt by the child's chair. "See you in a couple hours, Little Bear." The child wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged him back. "You be good for Eric, all right?"
"Be good," the child promised, with a serious nod.
Sydney looked up at Weiss. "Thanks again."
Weiss shrugged. "What are friends for?"
Sydney headed for the door.
Weiss wiped strawberry jam onto the bread and looked through the gap between the cupboards where he could see the child at the window. "Just you and me."
He sliced the boy's sandwich into four pieces and sat down at the table. "So...what shall we do?"
He was startled to hear the key in the lock and Sydney re-entering. "Uh huh, thanks Francie. I'm so glad you understand." Sydney was speaking on her cell phone, a pile of mail in her hand. She discarded all but some card, she placed in her purse on the counter. "I'll see you when we get back." She turned off the phone and turned to him.
He gave her a curious frown. "What's going on?"
Sydney looked at him, looking serious. "Something just came up actually. I'm going out of town."
"Out of town? Where? When?" he queried. He nodded towards the kid. "You still need me to watch him?"
"No, I'm taking him with me. You guys finish lunch and I've just got some things to get together." She headed off down the hall towards the bedrooms.
Weiss debated a moment, then followed. "What's going on, Syd?"
Sydney sighed, as she picked up clothes off the floor of the child's bedroom. "We just need to get out of the city for a bit. I've been planning on renting this beach house and I just found it's unexpectedly available this week. We're just going to go up there, get away. Rest, relax. Actually, my father will probably be thrilled. He thinks I don't take enough time to relax."
Weiss frowned. "I don't like it when my friends keep secrets, Syd. Not after what happened to Mike."
Sydney sighed and sat down on the bed. "There's something important I have to do. In itself, it really isn't dangerous. But it'll go a long way towards making things safer eventually."
He moved in front of her. "Tell me where you're going."
She looked up at him. "Eric, you don't need to worry. Not about this."
He gave her an uncompromising look.
She sighed. "I'll give you one answer. You don't ask any questions. And you don't mention it to anyone, especially my father. Not even if he asks."
Weiss debated, then nodded.
"I'm going to see his father all right." She rose and headed into the boy's bedroom.
Weiss's eyes widened as he followed. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "H-His father?"
Sydney smiled slightly. "You promised no questions." She pulled a duffel from the child's closet. "Now, you can help me pack, or you can leave."
Weiss gave her a searching stare, then pulled open a drawer. "Which do you think he prefers? The shirt with fire engines or the puppies?"
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