Sydney: I'd like to believe you, but I don't trust anything you say. (2:6 Salvation)
It was inevitable, Sydney thought as she stared at her mother, that they would run into each other looking for Rambaldi artifacts. Sydney was just surprised it had taken so long.
"Put the gun down, Sydney." Irina's voice was calm, but there was a warning note in it.
"You put yours down."
Irina smiled. "I'd like to, but I don't trust you not to shoot me."
"What? You shot me Taipei!"
"And you shot me in Italy."
"You tried to kill Dad!"
Irina's smile faded, and she lowered her gun. She spoke so softly that Sydney almost missed her question. "Is that what your father told you?"
"He doesn't remember what happened, only that you were there. Since you're in the habit of shooting your family members—"
"Sydney Anne Bristow! I did not shoot your father. In spite of what you think, I do not want either of you dead."
"Were you there?" Sydney challenged.
Irina nodded. "The man who shot your father is dead."
Sydney's eyes widened. "Did you kill him?"
Irina tilted her head to one side. Sydney finally lowered her gun. They watched each other, Rambaldi's manuscript between them, waiting to see who would make the next move.
"Get out of here," Sydney said after a long silence. "I have back-up."
Irina smiled again. "Then you're smarter than your father."
"Just go."
"I can't let you take that manuscript."
"And you think I'm going to let you take it back to Sloane?"
"I'm not working with Sloane, Sydney. Give me more credit than that."
Sydney didn't know where the lighter came from, but before she could do anything to prevent it, Irina had set the manuscript alight. She tossed the lighter on the ground and turned to leave. At the window, she paused.
"How is your father?"
The question was almost hesitant, and Sydney thought she sounded a bit afraid. She discarded the idea immediately; Irina Derevko was afraid of nothing.
She also sounded as if she cared, and Sydney knew that wasn't true. But the seed of doubt was planted, and Sydney allowed herself to wonder. Maybe . . .
"Sydney?"
"He's okay. Bored at home, but he's okay."
"Thank you."
And Irina was gone, leaving Sydney to puzzle over the enigma that was her mother.
"Mommy, do you love Daddy?" Sydney gave up any pretense of eating her lunch and watched her mother carefully.
"Of course I do." Laura smiled, the special smile she saved for Jack, and Sydney knew she was thinking of him.
"Do you love me?" Sydney held her breath, even though she already knew the answer to this one.
"Yes."
Sydney ate a forkful of mashed potatoes, relieved, though she still had more questions. "So how come Cally's mommy and daddy don't love each other? Cally says she has to move to Minnesos, umm, Minnie, umm, she says she has to go live with her mommy someplace else."
"Don't talk with your mouth full." Laura moved a chair closer to Sydney and sat down, brushing her hand over the back of Sydney's head.
Sydney swallowed. "Sorry. But how come? I thought all mommies and daddies loved each other?"
"Not everyone is as lucky as we are, Sydney. People start off loving each other and then . . . sometimes they stop."
She bit her lower lip. "Are you and Daddy going to stop loving each other?"
"Oh, Sydney, no." Laura hugged her, and kissed her forehead. "I could never stop loving your father."
"Never?"
"Never."
Sydney spoke past the lump forming in her throat. "But you said sometimes people stop."
"Other people, sweetheart."
"Hello? Anyone home?" Jack's voice rang out from the hall.
"Daddy!" Sydney slid off the chair and ran to greet her father. "I missed you so much!"
"Well, I missed you too, sweetheart." He kissed her, then held out his hand for his wife.
Sydney watched her parents' embrace, saw her mother's special smile, noted how her father gazed at her mother. When they kissed, Sydney closed her eyes, grossed out, but satisfied that her mother was right. Other people stopped loving each other, not the Bristows.