BLISSFUL IGNORANCE

Eyghon

Author's notes: Thank you for the reviews people at That was very nice! Here you get the next chapter before everyone else does. Keep reviewing please!

Chapter 3: Truth and lies

A few hours later, a little before lunch judging by her stomach, Sydney heard someone approaching her position. She lifted her eyes, squinting at the bright sunshine. Her mother was coming her way. She grunted inwardly, not happy with the intrusion.

"It's late, you must be hungry. Here, I brought you some water," offered Irina. Sydney ignored both her and the proffered bottle. She squatted down on the sand beside her.

"She's dead," said Sydney hollowly.

Irina nodded, understanding what Sydney talked about now. "She is, in a way, but I am she. I am she."

"I don't understand. Did he lie to me?"

"He just omitted some details about who I am." No matter how much she loathed Jack, she could never make him the bad guy in their daughter's eyes, even if he currently was for real.

"Some details? Care to elaborate?"

Irina sighed. She hadn't had to do that the first time. Sydney had found everything out by herself, and in a selfish way, she had been grateful for that. "I was the bad guy. He didn't know. We got married, had you and then I had to leave."

"Oh. And now you decided to be a great Mom and take care of your stupid, amnesic daughter."

"You're not stupid Sydney, why would you say that?"

"Because I didn't know. It was right in front of me and I didn't know. I should have seen it."

"You were too busy being scared by your father's fairytales."

"I still should have seen it."

"Sydney, you never actually saw me before I broke into your house. How could you have recognised me?" Why was her daughter blaming herself when there was nothing to blame for it?

"I don't know. We kind of look like each other."

"So? I look like lots of people. Mainly actresses and models." The joke was lame but it made Sydney smile. That was all Irina wanted. "What do you say we head back to the house and have lunch?"

"I guess that would be okay. I need some of that water you got first though."

"It's all yours." Irina helped her daughter up and they made their way back to the house where a salad of carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes awaited them.

"Hey, Irina? Can I call you that?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, shrugging. If she had to choose, she would like to be called 'Mom', but that was pushing it a little too far.

"Can I…Can you…Dad told me something about you that I didn't mention in the plane. I…I have a scar, on my shoulder…" She trailed of, seeing Irina suddenly turn pale and take big gulps of air. "I guess…that answers my question then."

"Sydney…"

"My mother shot me," hollowly whispered Sydney, shakily getting up. She barely made it to the sink before the contents of her stomach spilled in the white basin. She heard Irina move behind her and catch her hair in a messy bun before they could be soiled.

Irina made circle motions in Sydney's back, trying to alleviate her stomach's turmoil, like she did when Sydney was upset as a child.

Certain she could give nothing more, the young woman turned around and backed away from her mother. "I…I'm going to go in my room now."
"Sydney, it's not what you think…" tried to explain Irina, cursing Jack who had probably given half the story to their daughter. The part that made her a bad guy, of course.

"Well, I have a scar on my shoulder that disagrees with that. I don't want to talk to you, just…leave me alone," she said, lifting her hands in front of her in an attempt to convince Irina not to come closer.

Irina stood there, hurt but understanding, and let Sydney walk away from her. She was usually the one doing the walking away. Now the positions were reversed and she understood how bad Sydney must have felt when Irina had walked away from her, so many times. She sat on one of the stools, staring at their unfinished meal. She felt like throwing up too, but wouldn't allow it. It would be too easy she deserved to feel bad. Sydney was feeling much worse right now.

Finally, Sydney emerged from her room at dinnertime. Irina was mechanically batting eggs in a bowl without seeing them. She hadn't heard Sydney enter the kitchen and practically jumped when her daughter asked what was for dinner.

"Omelette," Irina replied, not daring to face her.

"Okay. Can I set the table?"

"Yes, thank you."

"No problem."

Eventually, the omelette was more than ready to be served. It was starting to blacken on the sides. Irina served them both without lifting her eyes from the pan and sat down while keeping her eyes riveted to her meal. Sydney never spoke a word during the whole dinner. The confrontation Irina expected never came and she found herself with the burning desire to talk, to put her 'foot in it' as Americans said and to hell with the consequences. She needed to explain her way, even if it made matters worse. They started putting away the dishes and she cleared her throat.

"Sydney, we need to talk."

"I don't want to talk. Please. Just forget I ever asked," pleaded Sydney.

"But I want to explain. I don't know what Jack told you but I don't go around shooting my children for the fun of it!"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Her face darkened and she walked toward the doorway.

"There are circumstances you must know about," insisted Irina, moving toward Sydney until she had her cornered between her and the wall. She was not going anywhere. Sydney was too scared to dare and shove her mother out of her way, though Irina would have let her. The wary and distrustful young woman was now stuck in the kitchen, with no other choice but to listen to her mother. It was the only way Irina knew. "I shot you to save you. If I hadn't, you and I both would have been killed. I assume Jack didn't tell you that, did he?"

"No, he didn't," replied Sydney after a pause. She wanted to believe Irina but at the same time knew it could be a plot to make her like the woman.

It was payback time, decided Irina; time to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Jack too did some bad things regarding you. He's not father of the year as much as I'm not mother of the year. In our world, nothing is black and white, there are always grey areas." After a pause, she went back to the main point. "I'm sorry I shot you, I really am. It's the hardest, the worst thing I had to do in my whole life but I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant it could save your life. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I think," whispered Sydney, overwhelmed.

"Good. That's good."

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, of course." Irina moved out of her way, a little disappointed. She hadn't expected a hug of course, but at least a little something. A look. A nod. A smile. She would have taken anything at this point.

"Mom?"

Or that. Yeah, that was the best she could have hoped for…recognition. "Yes?"

"Thank for talking to me, for telling me the truth, even if it was not pretty." Irina nodded, unsure how to answer. "We should talk some more, tomorrow maybe?" Added Sydney.

"I would love that, sweetheart."

Sydney nodded and smiled. "Good night."

"Good night."

The next day at breakfast, Sydney asked about their time together, while Irina was in CIA custody. Her mother was surprised by the question. Apparently, Jack had explained to Sydney that Irina had insisted on talking only to her, as a means to torment him.

"I can't believe him, is there one thing he told you that was completely true?" She asked, flabbergasted at Jack's ways.

"I wouldn't know, but my friends, the guys I work with I mean, they told me you wanted to spend time with me because you liked me, not to annoy him. Now that I think about it, they also hinted that he wasn't all nice and honest either."

"You chose your friends wisely Sydney," complimented Irina, certain her colleagues were referring to the Madagascar set up that had almost cost her her life.

"How was it, you and me I mean, when you were in jail?"

Talk about the million-dollar question. Irina sighed, thinking. She needed to come up with a response fast before Sydney took her silence as a reprimand, but she couldn't really tell her that Sydney hated her and that she, in return, had betrayed her once more.

She had a chance to start over, start anew with Sydney. A clean slate for herself, but that would mean not being honest and lie to her. Irina felt guilty only thinking about doing so. Sydney was so lost and she looked so eager to ear her mother's answer. Irina couldn't just throw the cold hard truth at her, and she couldn't lie to her either. She settled for the truth minus the gory details and added a few comments of her own.

"We weren't very close at first. I didn't tell you right away why I had shot you…"

"Why not?" Interrupted Sydney, definitely not shy anymore.

"You wouldn't have believed me."

"But I did just now," protested Sydney, puzzled.

"Because you are not who you used to be then. The 'old Sydney' doesn't trust people easily, she doesn't take anything at face value, and certainly not what I say."

"Oh. So we were like…enemies?"

"Technically yes, but I wouldn't go that far. Sometimes we…there were moments of complicity, smiles, and words. Little things that told me you were glad to have your mother back but that I wasn't whom you expected. You resented me for leaving you as a child. I deserved your anger but eventually it lessened and we grew closer to each other," explained Irina with a wistful smile. "We never really talked about it, what with being prisoner and jailer."

"It doesn't seem to stop you now."

Irina snapped back to reality. "Sydney, you're not a prisoner here! If you want to walk away just say the word and I'll take you back to your house this instant."

"No! No, I know, I didn't mean it like that…It's just that…I'm glad we can talk now, I like that."

Irina settled back in her seat, reassured. "I like it too. Your father had you convinced everything I said was a lie. You were afraid to let me into your life and to have me disappear afterward. I have only myself to blame for that. I did leave you when you were little and didn't encourage friendly feelings prior to my imprisonment." She vividly remembered Sydney's startled expression when Irina had shot Khasinau in Barcelona.

"But we worked it out, eventually?" Asked Sydney, hanging to her mother's every word, and feeling a bit silly for thinking that her life before sounded a lot like a soap opera.

"Yes, we did." Irina felt awful because the whole time she had intended to escape the CIA with Sloane and go work with him. If Sydney hadn't been infected by the Rambaldi fluid and needed her help, that's exactly what she would have done. Sydney would have seen her for who she was then, a manipulative, uncaring woman. Or so she would have thought.

In truth, Irina's plan was to go work with Sloane to better defeat him. They were supposed to work together to find the Rambaldi fluid but Irina had never intended to let Sloane keep it. Both their plans had been foiled when someone had gotten to the fluid first and had injected it in Sydney. Irina escaped anyway, because her daughter needed her.

It felt so right to be there, sitting casually in her kitchen, chatting with her daughter. What would Sydney think when she was back in Los Angeles and remembered this moment? Would she hate Irina even more for using her 'illness' to get closer to her? Would she miss her instead?

It was unfair to act as she was at the moment, she realised, both to her and to Sydney. This kind of thing would never happen again and Sydney did not have the opportunity to talk back. Irina should stop now she knew. If she got too close know, if she took too much liking in what was currently playing out, she wouldn't be able to back off later, when it was time to let go.

"You should get ready, I'll take you to the lab," she said, reminding Sydney exactly why she was here.

"Yeah, you're right." Sydney nodded and tried not to show how disappointed she was that the talking session was over now. A half hour later, she had showered and dressed. She started to worry about what Irina had planned for her today.

TBC