DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.
SUMMARY: Giving sympathy to the devil...
7th in the Cry of Orphans series
RATED PG-13 (for some disturbing content)
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.

"I have spent the last eight years picturing you in some dark place, hoping you were suffering the way Taryn and I have suffered."

"What makes you think I wasn't?"

TORMENT OF ORPHANS
By Aliasscape
Copyright 2004

She didn't dare turn her back on him.

She pushed aside branches and stalked carefully through the dense foliage. She made sure she kept nearly the same pace as him, never more than a step or two ahead.

There was a time when he was the person she trusted most in the entire world. But now, after everything she'd done, she knew she couldn't. Not anymore. Not when only two days before she knew he'd wanted nothing more than to launch himself through the glass that separated them and force the location of his daughter out of her.

Vaughn beat the glass. "You tell me where she is! You tell me where my daughter is!"

Sydney had known instantly what she feared since the day she turned herself in had happened. That Sloane would realize what she was up to and take action to stop her, or at least slow her down.

"I don't know exactly where she is. But if you get me out of here, I can find her."

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare use her as a bargaining chip for your freedom! Is that why you did this?"

She glared at him. "There is a possibility that Taryn is safe, and there is the possibility that she is in a lot of trouble. But I can't tell you which as long as I'm in this cell."

"Taryn isn't safe until I know where she is and she's back at home where she belongs."

"I can get her back for you. But you have to get me out of here."

Vaughn hadn't said anything. He'd just walked away. She'd sat down on her cot to wait. There wasn't time to waste. It was less than an hour later that the gates rose again, but it wasn't Vaughn.

"Dad."

"Did you do this?"

"I did not plan for this to happen."

Her father had summed her up with her eyes.

"But you knew it could."

"I knew it was a possibility."

"And you didn't warn us."

"I took precautions. Before I turned myself in. Before I started giving up information about Sloane."

"Sloane has her?!"

"I don't know. And I can't find out from inside here."

"Tell me who to contact," Jack demanded.

"It doesn't work that way, Dad." She was supposed to have more time. She needed more time. "I couldn't risk...it's information I have to access personally. I have to be out of here to do that."

"Sydney, your deal isn't going to be finished for another month. They can't just let you go."

"Talk to them, please. They'll listen to you."

They had listened to him, but not in the way she'd expected. It was hours later that Jack returned.

"They've agreed," her father announced.

"When do we leave?"

Jack stiffened. "I'm not a member of the CIA anymore. They couldn't release you into my custody. They had to choose an agent."

It was then that Vaughn had appeared at the end of the hallway. His brow was lined with his worry wrinkles. He looked lost and concerned. Weary. Then, he'd looked up to see her looking at him. His face had immediately hardened into a glare as he'd come down the hall.

He'd waited outside the cell while she'd said goodbye to her father. Then, when Jack had headed down the hallway, Vaughn moved to the doorway stiffly. She realized he didn't want to actually enter the cell. He didn't want to be that close to her. She didn't blame him.

"I'm sorry."

"If you even attempt to escape--"

"I won't," she assured him. "This isn't about me. It's about Taryn."

He stared at her incredulously. As if she had no right to mention her name, let alone claim to be concerned.

It was an uncomfortably quiet walk to the car and ride to the airstrip. They stepped onto the plane. The pilot turned to them expectantly and she'd given him a location in South America. The plane ride was hours long but there was no conversation. They couldn't talk to each other. They could barely look at each other.

When the plane finally landed, they got a car and she drove him to the compound. He took one look at the imposing structure and glared at her.

"We don't have the manpower or the equipment to penetrate a facility like this."

"We don't need it."

He had looked perplexed a moment, then his face formed into an expression heavy with contempt. She pulled up to the gate. One of the guards approached the vehicle, weapon ready and face stern. As he neared her car window, he immediately grinned. He eagerly ordered the gate opened for them. She was glad that the commander of the guard ordered everyone to their posts so she caused as little commotion as possible.

"We weren't expecting you."

"You should always expect me," she reprimanded, playfully.

The commander had chuckled, but shifted uncomfortably. She'd let him know it was going to be a quick visit and then lead Vaughn to an interior study. He'd sat stiffly in a chair while she'd accessed her computer. He watched her, completely disgusted in some way. An encrypted message was awaiting her on the network and its contents caused her to let out a relieved sigh.

"Vaughn, she's safe. He has her."

"Who has her?"

She had only hesitated a moment.

"Sark. He got to her before Sloane could."

She could see it in his eyes that this news was no relief to him.

"Where are they?"

"A safe house. Couple hours from here."

The message revealed that Sloane was likely close behind. Sydney let the commander know she was going to need a truck and four guards to come with them. When they neared the safe house, they couldn't get any response from inside. They split up into groups of two, going through the jungle to the safe house from various directions just in case.

Sydney could tell Vaughn was about to ask a question.

"That compound, was it one of your mother's facilities?"

"No." She paused. "One of mine."

He halted, staring at her. "Did Sark take the pictures?"

She stopped. "Not him personally, but yes, he ordered it."

Vaughn narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"

"Does it matter? He gave them to me."

"And that's the only reason they were taken. For you?"

"Yes."

He gave her a cold stare, pushed away the branch in front of him and took the lead. She started to follow but almost immediately he turned on her again. "You told your father you took precautions. Sark was your precaution?"

"Vaughn--"

"You trusted him to keep Taryn safe. Before the CIA, before your father, before me." He fixed a piercing stare on her. "You trust Sark, an assassin."

"Because he was going to have the most up-to-date information on Sloane's movements. I promise you, Taryn is safe with him."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know him, Vaughn." She paused and continued more softly. "He wouldn't hurt her."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "What do you mean you...know him?"

She pushed past him. She doubted he'd understand, even if she did actually try to explain where she'd been, why, and what she'd learned. And she didn't expect him to. No matter what she said it was going to come back to the fact that she'd failed Taryn as a mother.

And left him behind.

He had no idea that the first few days after she left were a blur of airports, phone calls and hotel rooms. She'd regretted not leaving her father a note so she'd left him an answering machine message. Then, she'd made calls to her former contacts, but only the ones she knew wouldn't reveal to her father that they'd talked to her. Food had been unappealing. Sleep had been impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could hear was Taryn screaming.

She was thankful when a contact finally let her know locations that could be areas of activity for The Man's organization. She glanced through the information. The activity reports from St. Petersburg decided her destination. She found Sark there, but she hadn't had a plan, beyond simply telling him the truth.

"Sark, I need you to tell me where my mother is."

It hadn't gone over as well as she had hoped. She'd ended up, handcuffed, blindfolded and locked in a cell for two days. But she didn't even try to escape.

Maybe being treated like a prisoner was what she deserved.

Sark finally took her from the cell and after another blindfolded transit, she was finally left to stand alone in a room. Her hands weren't secured. She could have pulled the blindfold off, but she feared doing anything that might cause this meeting with Irina to be cancelled. She had to follow their rules.

It didn't seem real when the blindfold was removed and her mother stood less than two feet away from her. All she could do was cry. She'd babbled out her reasons so quickly, she didn't even recall what she said. What she remembered was the sincerely concerned look in her mother's eyes. And the force with which Irina had embraced her. And how young and safe she'd felt with her mother's arms around her.

And how many times as a child she had just wished her mother was there to hold her.

It made her sob harder.

She didn't know how long she'd stood there, with Irina silently stroking her hair. She had finally been the one to pull away, as it seemed her Irina would have been willing to hold onto her forever. She hadn't been able to speak and when she looked at Irina's face, she was surprised to see her mother's tears.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."

"Sydney, you can stay here as long as you like."

The words were immediately reinforced with actions. Sydney had been escorted upstairs to a spacious and richly furnished room moments later, being told to ask the maid, Jessa, if she needed anything else.

But Jessa couldn't get her what she needed.

She had lain back on the bed, her mind swimming with thoughts. The realization of what she'd done had started to sink in.

She'd left LA, her teaching, her father. One message on his answering machine wasn't going to alleviate his fears about where she was and how she was doing.

She'd left Vaughn. She hadn't even had the decency to say goodbye to his face. But she couldn't risk that.

He wouldn't have let her go.

He would have wanted to know why and how could she possibly tell him that she'd almost smothered their baby? She couldn't bear to see the way he would have looked at her if she'd told him that. And she couldn't spend another night in that house. Even though it meant abandoning him, abandoning Taryn. Making her child grow up without a mother. At least, she'd get to grow up.

Sydney had curled up on the bed, choking back another sob. She cried herself to sleep.

She only managed sleep a couple hours at a time so for the first few days, she barely felt the energy to get out of bed, let alone to leave the room. Jessa brought her meals. Her mother came daily and once inquired if there was anything else Sydney needed.

"I packed some things before I left. But I put them in storage."

"Where? I'll arrange to have it brought here."

She began getting her boxes at the end of the week. It had been obvious they'd been opened and searched. Her laptop and gun were absent for the obvious reasons. She unpacked the boxes, adding her touches of home to the room. She had hesitated when she pulled out her photographs. There were empty frames on the dresser she could easily display them in. Will. Weiss. Her father. Vaughn. Taryn. She wasn't sure she could bear to have their pictures staring at her.

And she wasn't sure how much longer she could bear not seeing their faces.

Fitting the pictures in the frames was easy. Silencing the thoughts in her head was not.

What were they doing now? How much did they miss her? Were they looking for her? Did Vaughn hate her? Did he think she hated him? He couldn't have been expecting this. He had to be wondering why. And when she thought of him, even she had to sometimes ask herself why.

Vaughn slipped into the bedroom and gave her a playful smile.

She looked up from the book she'd been reading. "What?"

"Our princess is sleeping."

"Already? You just--"

He crossed the room and climbed into bed, his smile widening. "Already."

"You'll have to take her to the zoo more often." She closed her book and turned to face him.

He laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "You'll have to come next time."

She raised an eyebrow and moved to hover over him, her lips inches from his. "But then, I'd be tired too."

He rested his hands on her waist. "Mmm, you're right. Never mind."

"Uh huh." She leaned in and kissed him.

Avoiding Taryn wasn't so hard. Vaughn was understanding. Maybe she could have kept it up. For a few more months, at least. And Taryn would go to school eventually.

But what kind of life would that have been for her daughter? She would have realized her mother was avoiding her eventually. What if she ever asked? What could her answer possibly be? And even Vaughn couldn't accept her excuses forever. And if she told him the truth, he was never going to trust her again. Why should he? She couldn't assure him it would never happen again. She had no idea how it had happened the first time.

The scene replayed in her head a thousand times a day. What she could have done differently. How she could have stopped herself. And when she finally tired of that, she thought of how she could explain it to someone else. She knew she'd have to eventually. And there was one person she thought might understand. Irina. She always expected her mother to start asking questions each time she visited. Demanding some type of answer of reason. But she never did.

Until finally Sydney had her own questions to ask.

"Mom, what was I like...as a baby?"

An amused smile played across her mother's face. "Stubborn."

"Difficult?"

"At times."

"Did you ever...wish I had never been born?"

It was then that her mother had come to sit right beside her on the bed. Irina gave her a searching stare, looking hurt.

"Sydney...no. Never."

Sydney started to shake her head, her chin quivering. "But in Taipei, you said--"

"I said those things for the same reason I shot you; to continue my charade of loyalty to Cuvee, but I never meant a word. I love you, Sydney. I have since the day you were born."

Sydney couldn't stop the tears.

Her mother had moved to embrace her but Sydney had turned away and curled up on the bed.

Her mother had loved her. Still loved her. Her mother, a Russian spy, who'd married her father under false pretenses, had managed to love her. And she couldn't love a child she'd planned to have with a man she loved.

She didn't want to be held. She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.

She had to force herself to do the simplest of daily activities. To get out of bed. To get dressed. To leave her bedroom and go to the library or out into the courtyard. She did those things for her mother, rather than for herself, knowing she'd simply worry Irina more if she didn't. Even though she'd gone there to get away, she didn't want to be an added burden. And yet she knew she was.

Sark was watching her constantly. He was normally discreet, but she knew he didn't feel she should be there. He'd all but said so when he did happen to speak to her. He was suspicious, accusing even. Even as he'd returned her laptop to her, he wouldn't give her back her gun. She wouldn't have dreamed of using her gun against him or anyone else in her mother's compound.

Against herself maybe, but not them.

The thought scared her and comforted her at the same time.

It probably would have sounded absurd to anyone else that thinking of ways to die was a comfort, but she didn't belong there. She didn't deserve to be hidden away there as if she were the one in need of protection. She was lying to her mother by staying and not telling her what had happened with Taryn. But she couldn't stand the thought of how horrified her mother would be if she told her the truth.

I almost killed my baby.

She couldn't believe that Irina would still want her to stay once she heard those words. Not that she would blame her.

But she hadn't had any place to go. She couldn't go back to Vaughn.

She wanted to. She didn't dare.

I almost killed my baby.

She couldn't risk that happening again. She could never, ever allow herself anywhere near that child again. And Vaughn wouldn't understand why. And how could she possibly look him in the eye and tell him?

I almost killed my baby.

He'd have hated her. And what if for some reason he hadn't?

She didn't deserve his forgiveness.

She hadn't deserved to be allowed to return and be accepted by him. She hadn't deserved for him to be looking for her, to miss her, to be wishing for her to come back.

That was what had made the decision so shortly after her arrival so clear. She had looked into the faces of the photographs and on the dresser and realized what she deserved, what she owed them.

She'd taken a necklace from her jewelry box. Sydney had taken it from the things her mother had left behind when she faked her death. A simple golden chain. But she wanted Irina to have it back. She'd placed it in the study on her way down to dinner that night. She could have skipped dinner but she wanted to try and keep the evening as normal as possible for her mother. But she couldn't even pretend to eat a meal that night. Her stomach was in knots. A part of her wanted to give Irina a hug, say good-bye in some way but she knew something like that would only arouse suspicions. She couldn't risk that. And she wasn't sure she could stop herself if she spent several hours in library as usual. So, she hadn't.

She had gone upstairs to her room. Maybe they'd notice the difference, but they'd probably just assume she went to bed early. She removed the sweater she had on at dinner, leaving on her short-sleeved, red blouse.

She went into the bathroom and took out the razor blade. She swallowed, and outstretched her arm over the sink. But it wasn't the right place.

She had considered the notepad on the table by her bed. She could have tried to write a note, tried to explain. But only two words had come to mind.

I'm sorry.

But that hadn't been good enough. It didn't matter how sorry she was. It wasn't going to undo what happened.

She went back into the bedroom, putting herself in clear view of the family photos. Her witnesses. She started to sit down on the bed but somehow she sunk to the floor.

It wasn't going to make it any less terrible. Even though she was the only person who knew, it didn't make it any less of a crime.

At least, she was going to be spared her mother's disappointment. She drove the blade into her right wrist. And her father's disappointment. She bit her lip, dug deeper and dragged it back across her forearm, towards her elbow, a stream of red chasing behind it.

And Vaughn's disappointment. She looked at his pictures and then at the ring on her finger as she repositioned the blade above her left wrist. Trembling, she sliced in deeply and again dragged it back. And most of all Taryn's. Her right hand was numbing. She sliced into her left arm again, quickly. The wound in her right arm rained onto her left as she did so.

She deserved to die. There was nothing else she could possibly do to make up for all that she'd done.

She rested her hands on her knees, pointing them down. She leaned her head back against the bed and closed her eyes, trying not to focus on the stinging pain in both arms.

Even if dying hurt, it couldn't possibly hurt as much as living.

Nothing she'd done in the three weeks since she'd left Vaughn had felt quite as right or calming as sitting there with her own blood pouring from her open veins. She didn't know how long she sat there. And then the most hilarious thing had happened. She'd opened her eyes and Sark had come in. He'd been horrified to see her sitting there. She hadn't been able to hold back a laugh at first. And then, she'd realized he wasn't going to help her. Helping would have been to leave her alone. But he was going to try to stop her. She realized she was too weak to stop him. And then her calm had disappeared.

And all she had wanted to do was cry.

He had taken the razor blade and started wrapping her arms. She tried to pull her arms away but she saw they didn't move. And then her mother was there, wrapping too and she stopped thinking about pulling away. It had started to get darker shortly after that. She felt sleepy and couldn't help but start to close her eyes.

"Sydney!"

Her mother had sounded so faraway, but she'd tried to open her eyes to see her. Sydney had seen her mother's waist but couldn't lift her head to see her face, before she felt her eyes drooping closed again.

"SYDNEY!"

She really had wanted to open her eyes that time. She couldn't. She didn't hear her again after that.

But her mother's was the first face she'd clearly seen when she had woken up. Irina held onto her bandaged arms and hands as if they were delicate and precious in someway. Sydney wanted to tell her mother her hands were not precious at all. Maybe if she'd had something bigger than a razor blade, she would have tried to sever them completely.

Her mother was always there when she awoke for the first couple of days. On the third day, she finally felt strong enough to sit up. Irina had been different that day. There was a look on her face that Sydney had interpreted to mean that there was something wrong. At the very least, she knew something important had been on Irina's mind.

Irina moved to her chair beside the bed and looked down at Sydney's bandages. "Sydney, when you did this, did you know?"

Sydney gave Irina a perplexed look. "Know?"

"That you were pregnant?"

At first, she hadn't been able to say anything. She kept waiting for her mother to correct herself, admit she'd misspoken. But she didn't. And finally, Sydney had to ask.

"The baby?"

"Is stable," Irina assured her.

Another baby. How could she have another baby? How could she drag it into this mess she'd made of her life? How was she going to tell Vaughn? How was this going to be any better than the last time? This one wasn't even born yet and she'd already almost killed it, along with herself.

"I didn't know," she whispered.

She should have known. She should have suspected. If she'd stepped back and thought about how she'd been feeling lately, maybe she would have. But she'd just abandoned her entire life. She hadn't been able to think of anything besides that. This could not happen. Not here. Not now.

Sydney knew her mother could have only half understood why she'd started shaking her head, broken down into sobs and proclaimed that she couldn't have this baby. She had reached for IV, trying to rip it out. But Irina had grabbed her arms and held her still. Sydney had forced herself to lie there calmly again and her mother had let her go. Irina sat down just on the edge of the bed and regarded her with a concerned eye.

"Why, Sydney?" she asked, gently. "What do you mean, you can't have this baby?"

"I can't be its mother. I can't be a mother."

Her mother's eyes flashed guilt momentarily, then she looked back at her, determined. "Yes, you can."

Sydney shook her head.

"Sydney-"

"I'll kill it."

Irina fell silent, alarm and confusion crossing her face.

Sydney blinked hard, realizing what she'd just said, out loud, to her mother. Tears filled her eyes again and she rolled over, burying her face and sobbing into her pillow. It was only a moment before Sydney felt her mother's hand touch her head and begin stroking her hair.

Sydney still didn't know how long Irina must have sat there. She had fallen asleep.

Irina, Sark and Dr. Andreas had been in and out of the room in the days after that. She was never alone. They would make Jessa sit with her if they had other things to do. Her meals were brought to her and she wasn't allowed to simply move the food about her plate.

"You have to eat, Sydney," her mother said, sternly.

She had listened. Because it took less energy to eat than it did to fight about it.

"You're going to need to take these prenatal vitamins to supplement your diet," Dr. Andreas explained.

Sydney hadn't given the bottle of pills in front of her more than a glance.

"You'll have to start taking better care of your health, for you and the baby."

Sydney didn't look at the doctor and she didn't say anything.

She assumed now that the doctor had told her mother how uninterested she'd seemed in the vitamins. They were given to her with her meals and they watched her take them carefully. She didn't see much point in trying not to take the vitamins.

But she didn't see much point in taking them either.

She had spent five more days confined to bed. So she could rest and recuperate, the doctor had said. She wasn't sure she had in fact rested or recuperated at all. She slept, but she didn't feel any less fatigued. She ate, but she doubted it made a difference considering the food kept coming back up anyway.

Her mother's daily visits put her on her edge. Sydney had expected her to bring up the pregnancy. She was certain their last conversation had given Irina plenty of questions.

It was strange how one single piece of news had changed so completely the dynamics of her world once again. She thought her mother was the one person who would understand what had happened with Taryn. But she'd completely misjudged Irina on that. Leaving Vaughn and Taryn was supposed to be the right thing to do. But how could she possibly survive having another baby without him? And slitting her wrists was supposed to free her. Instead, she'd ended up even more trapped. Supervised, confined to her room, having her eating habits monitored. She doubted they would care so much if she wasn't pregnant. She knew they wouldn't. They hadn't before.

She was thankful when the doctor finally said it was safe for her to be up and around again. She doubted they would keep watching her forever. They'd taken the sharpest of objects from her bedroom. She wouldn't have tried wrist cutting again anyway.

It took too long.

She thought about telling Irina she wanted to leave. She knew her mother picked up on that.

"Sydney if this has made you want to leave, to go back to Vaughn--"

"I can't go back. I can't ever go back."

Going back to Vaughn was the furthest thing from her mind. But she had no place else to go. She couldn't run from being pregnant. She couldn't erase it as though it had never happened. She could try, but it'd be just like what happened with Taryn. Even if no one else knew, she'd know. She couldn't bear to be haunted by yet another child.

She didn't have any way to escape. When she tired herself from the day and thoughts about her baby, she couldn't even use her former favorite escape, sleep. Her dreams were dark and strange. Her nightmares were flashbacks.

Sydney dragged herself off the couch, and stumbled down the hallway to Taryn's bedroom. She walked over to the crib. Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney. Sydney leaned over the crib, rubbing Taryn's belly, trying to give her some kind of comfort.

She had watched herself helplessly, wanting nothing more than to change the outcome of her dream.

"Taryn, it's okay. You're okay," Sydney told the baby. Taryn kicked Sydney's hand away, and flailed her arms, completely angry. "Taryn, you need to calm down," Sydney said more firmly. Her own head ached worse with the cries. Pounded. "Taryn, please...."

She would fight to maintain control. To not become so upset. To force herself to just walk away.

It never worked.

Sydney covered the baby's mouth wit her hand, but it barely muffled the cry. She stepped back and grabbed a soft white pillow from the nearby rocking chair. It covered Taryn's entire head. The crying was muffled then turned into a cough. Then, it was silent.

It happened again and again.

Sydney stared down at the kicking baby legs and arms pushing from beneath the pillow.

And she couldn't help but panic. Because sometimes in the dreams it ended differently. Sometimes, she would pull the pillow away but it didn't matter. It was already too late. Taryn would stay silent. And she'd run from the crib in horror.

"Sydney! Sydney, stop!"

Hands gripped her arms firmly. She turned, blinded by tears, hyperventilating. "She can't breathe! She can't breathe!" She gulped down air, but it felt as though her lungs didn't inflate. She widened her eyes, fully taking in her surroundings as she tried again to breathe. "I can't--" She inhaled and exhaled breathlessly.

Her eyes started to tear as she felt her mother's hand on her back.

"Calm down, Sydney. Try to breathe normally."

She tried to inhale and exhale normally, as they walked back to her bedroom. But the thought of Taryn lifeless in the crib quickened her breathing again as she started to cry. It didn't matter that it wasn't real. It could have been real. It could have so easily been real. She walked over and grabbed the picture of the baby from the dresser and stared at it. She sunk onto the bed, holding it.

"What's her name?" her mother asked quietly, reminding Sydney she was still there.

"Taryn."

"Sydney," Irina said calmly. "What happened to Taryn?"

The small arms and legs flailed and kicked. She could feel the small baby fighting her from beneath the pillow. Fighting for air. Fighting to live.

"She can't breathe," Sydney whispered.

"Why not?" Irina paused only a moment. "What did you...do?"

Sydney swallowed and didn't look at her mother as she spoke. "I put a pillow over her head." She looked down. "She wouldn't stop crying and I put a pillow over her head," she repeated. What kind of excuse was that? How had that ever seemed like a reason? "And then she was quiet."

Irina watched her, forming her next question carefully. "What happened when you pulled the pillow away?"

"She started to-to cry." Sydney's voice cracked again at the thought of her daughter's terrified screams. "I didn't tell Vaughn. I didn't tell anyone. I just...I just left." Sydney looked at Irina's face, needing to look her mother in the eye. "I tried to kill her."

Irina stared back at her, saying nothing.

"I tried to kill her!" Sydney exclaimed, needing a reaction.

"I heard you, Sydney." Her mother's voice was so calm. Her face had almost no expression, except for her concerned eyes.

Where was the anger? The contempt?

"I was supposed to be her mother. I was supposed to protect her! I was supposed to love her..." Sydney's voice trailed off as she stared at the picture.

Sydney felt her mother gently place an arm around her and stiffened. She looked at Irina incredulously. "How can you..."

Irina stared at her with glassy eyes, somehow still full of love and concern. "I can't condemn you for what you've done. You've already condemned yourself."

"I don't know if I loved her." Sydney sniffled. She'd said the words. She thought she'd felt them but if she truly loved her then how could she have tried to hurt her? "She's my daughter and I don't know if I loved her."

That thought had started her sobs again.

The days following she realized she might have answered some of her mother's questions, but she hadn't relieved any of her worries. Sometimes she was certain Irina herself felt guilty for what had happened to Taryn. She hated seeing what a burden she was on her mother's mind. Sydney tried to do what she could to act like she was feeling better. She probably hadn't fooled her mother.

Sydney had taken to wandering around the courtyard just for the exercise. She felt like she could think better when she was walking. Sark usually watched her when she was out there but she didn't mind that. She could see his suspicions about her were subsiding. Sometimes he'd walk with her, but he didn't try and get answers out of her as he had before. She wasn't sure if her mother had told him anything about why she'd come, and she didn't tell him. She didn't talk to him much at all.

"May I walk with you a moment?"

She shrugged. She wasn't going to walk much longer. Her head hurt.

"I'd like to apologize about before."

The courtyard spun slightly. Something was wrong.

"The assumptions I made about why you came here."

Her legs began to buckle beneath her. She was passing out. "Sark!" It went dim before she had the chance to ask for his help.

She had awakened on the couch in the sitting room and realized he must have carried her inside. He seemed to want to send for a doctor, but her mother assessed that her collapse was just a combination of her stress level and her pregnancy. Other than the nausea, it was one of the few physical signs she truly was pregnant. It had been something she'd been avoiding thinking about, but she realized she wasn't going to be able to do that for much longer.

She had immediately listened to her mother's suggestion that she lie down for awhile. She hadn't been lying there for more than a few moments before Sark came in and sat with her. He had given her something that almost looked like a comforting smile. And she realized, he knew. She had rested her hand on her stomach, unsure anything would really be able to comfort her until she figured out what she was going to do.

As if her mother could read her thoughts, they had lunch together the next day. Obviously, so they could talk about exactly that.

"Have you thought about what you would like to do?"

"I've started to." Barely started. She really didn't have any idea.

"I wanted you to know, that you and this baby are welcome here for as long as you need."

Sydney stared at her plate. She hadn't expected her mother to forbid the baby from staying, but she almost wished she would. There was no way she could keep this baby with her. If the baby was going to be here, then she couldn't be. She raised her eyes towards her mother slowly. "I can't- I can't keep it."

Her mother ate a bite of her salad. "Then, you'd like to send it to Vaughn?"

Sydney could hardly swallow. "He doesn't even know. I haven't spoken to him since..." She trailed off, knowing she didn't even have to finish. Her mother knew these things already.

"If you would like to talk to him, I can arrange for a secure phone call."

Sydney glanced up at Irina in disbelief. Talk to Vaughn? How could she start that conversation? What could she possibly say? What if he asked her where she was? What if he asked to come home? Or worse, what if he asked her why she'd left? She shook her head. "No. Not yet. I don't even know if I want to send..." She stopped, surprised what she was saying. She pushed away her plate. "He must have so much to deal with already. Taryn won't even be two when this baby's born."

"Sydney, if you don't want to raise it and you don't want him to raise it--"

Sydney let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know what I want yet! I just know I don't want to drag it into the mess I've made. And maybe letting it be raised by people not connected to all this, would be best."

"Adoption." Her mother said the word in such a way that Sydney couldn't be sure what she thought of the idea.

"Maybe. I need more time to think about it. "

She had abandoned her mother and her lunch. She'd headed for her bedroom, thinking she would lie down, but as she reached it a familiar feeling swept over her. She really had no desire to sleep. She would have preferred to break things. She paced the room that had formerly seemed so large. She left her room, and walked down the hallway towards the doors to a balcony. She pushed them open and immediately there were footsteps behind her. She should have known she wouldn't be left alone for long.

"I'm not going to jump," she stated, turning to look at him.

Sark looked her in the eye. "Good." But he stayed less than two steps behind her as she walked onto the balcony.

She sighed and pointed down towards a dirt path in the trees, not too far in the distance. "Is that part of this compound?"

"Yes."

"Then, I want to go there."

Sark had raised an eyebrow at her and for a minute she'd thought he'd refuse. But he finally led the way, probably more because he was curious about what she'd do more than anything. She followed him in silence, then as they reached the path, she started to do some warm-up stretches making her plan obvious. She looked down the path, watching it wind into the trees and realized she had no idea where it went and she didn't care.

She finished stretching and took off jogging, mildly amused by the fact that Sark still had to follow her everywhere. She picked up speed. Though it wasn't hard for him to keep up, he was in much better shape. She hadn't been running in weeks. She'd forgotten how good it felt. How free.

She hated it when her legs tired and she was out of breath and forced to slow down to a walk. Sark slowed as well, matching the cadence of her walk exactly, though he didn't look nearly as out of breath. He watched her carefully.

"Perhaps you should rest."

She looked at him. "I think I've rested long enough."

To prove her point, she'd taken off running again.

She made it into a daily routine. Just as she'd spent time sitting around, she found her way out to the paths and ran them everyday. She could feel the tension built up inside her during the day before she did her run. Her appetite improved dramatically, especially as the nausea began to dissipate.

The baby became more prominent in her thoughts. She thought of it every time she looked in the mirror. New clothes were placed in her closet when her own became tight around the waist. The baby wasn't going to be a bad dream and just go away. She had to decide what to do with it, what was best for it. It seemed a ridiculous thought. She'd nearly killed her first child. How could she have any idea what was best for this one?

It kept her awake at night. She tossed and turned, not just from trying to find a comfortable position, but because her thoughts wouldn't stop. Would Vaughn want it? Would it just be too much of a burden? He loved Taryn, but they hadn't planned on this baby. And he certainly hadn't planned on single parenting. Was it fair to him to force yet another baby into his life that she wasn't going to help him take care of? But if she didn't give it to him, could she really give this baby up to strangers? Forever? Never telling Vaughn it existed. Not knowing how it was, if it was healthy or happy.

She would climb out of bed, and just walk around the compound. She took off across the grounds one night and discovered a private gym. In the dark, she made enemies of various punching bags. She still remembered the regimen of exercises she'd practiced when she was in the CIA, despite the years it had been since she'd left.

Her new routine was noted and apparently seen as an improvement. She found she wasn't looked at with the same constantly concerned eyes as she had been before. She even felt as though she was checked in on rather than monitored as she had been before. She realized now she had fooled them. Maybe she'd fooled herself as well.

And then, she'd realized she was going in circles.

On the paths. In her head. She wasn't making any decisions and she didn't have forever to think about it. She was up before dawn one day thinking she would go for a run and she would make a final decision. She didn't stick to the paths. She allowed herself to contemplate all the what ifs.

"They're still looking for you."

Her mother had told her. If she let them find her. If she went back just long enough to have the baby. Vaughn had been so understanding in the past.

"Sydney!" Vaughn hung up the phone and as she closed the door behind her. "Are you all right?"

She looked at the worry wrinkles on his face and knew she couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine."

"You've been gone two days. I've been calling everyone. What happened?"

She sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. "I had to get away."

"Why didn't you call? At least to let me know that you were okay?"

She blinked. Why hadn't she? "I'm sorry."

"Syd, I'm just glad you're home."

But she'd have to leave again. She couldn't go back just to hurt them. She knew there were other ways to get the baby to Vaughn, but she still dreaded adding to the responsibilities he already had. But if she just called him and told him. Even if she didn't answer any of his other questions just knowing about the baby, surely would intensify his search for her. And she couldn't bring the CIA to her mother.

She picked up her pace, running faster.

Which took her back to adoption. The only downsides she had thought of were for herself. The baby would get a fresh start. Maybe she owed it that. Maybe that would spare it from all the pain she would surely bring it. She had thought getting out of the spy life had meant sparing the ones she loved the pain that seemed to follow her wherever she went. But it seemed maybe the only way to do that was to separate herself as well.

She made a wide turn, without slowing down and headed back. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears.

But did she really have the right to make that decision for Vaughn too?

He didn't know. Maybe he didn't ever have to know.

No! She had no right to decide that. For him. Or the baby.

Tears stung her eyes, her breaths came out fast and irregular.

Maybe there was no right decision. Maybe after everything that had happened, the decision was simply going to be whatever would do the least damage.

The trees blurred ahead of her.

Maybe as long as it wasn't with her, it would be okay.

She inhaled sharply, almost unable to get a breath back out. She started slowing to a jog. She needed to walk and, cool down. But she leaned against a tree, almost unable to breathe. She gasped as a pain attacked her abdomen. She sank to the ground, her hands holding her side.

And she realized maybe she wouldn't have to decide after all.

The pains were too sharp for her to stand up. She closed her eyes, trying to get the energy to shout for help. But she was still out of breath from her run. She sat there just trying to get her breathing under control.

"Over here!"

Footsteps ran towards her. She opened her eyes again, and saw the blurry forms of guards rushing towards her. As she felt herself being lifted, it all went dark.

She had awakened back in her bedroom. Dr. Andreas and her mother were talking on the other side of the room, both seemed agitated. The doctor finally left the room and Irina approached the bed slowly, a helpless look in her eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

The pain was gone and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad. She shrugged, trying to read her mother's eyes. "I don't know."

"You're going to be okay."

Sydney swallowed. "The baby?" she asked, softly.

"Dr. Andreas is running some tests. She believes you overexerted yourself. For now, you need to rest." Irina spoke softly, her eyes watching Sydney ever so carefully.

Sydney sighed. It was silent a moment and she looked her mother in the eye. "I didn't do it on purpose."

Irina nodded.

"I wasn't trying to hurt it or me. I wasn't thinking about running. I was trying to think of what to do. What should happen when this baby's born."

"Did you decide what you want to do?"

She hesitated but finally shook her head. "No!" she cried, tears coming to her eyes immediately. "I don't know! I still don't know. I don't know if I'll ever know. And whenever I think about it, I just--" The thoughts would just circled her head and all she wanted to do was to run away and hide. She was letting this baby down. She had a feeling she was going to mess up its life no matter what she decided. She trembled with new sobs and turned her face away.

Her mother rubbed her back a few minutes, then gripped her shoulder. "Sydney. Sydney, look at me."

Sydney obeyed, sniffling.

Irina looked at her sincerely. "Sydney, if you just carry this baby to term, I will take care of any arrangements that must be made about it afterwards."

Sydney took a few calming deep breaths, processing her mother's words.

Irina continued, seriously, "I promise you, you won't have to decide what will be done with it, if that's not what you want."

Sydney nodded slowly, finally able to stop crying.

Irina moved away from the bed. "Try and get some sleep."

She had closed her eyes and actually slept. Without tossing and turning for hours. Without nightmares. She woke up feeling neither fatigued nor restless. She had thought over her mother's offer. A part of her was upset with herself for being so indecisive, but at the same time, she truly believed Irina could handle it. Her mother could surely see the situation in an entirely different way. Sydney doubted she would have any trouble at all making a decision.

The weeks seemed to pass more quickly after that. Even though Dr. Andreas felt her exercise needed to be much more limited and she was more strictly monitored. But she didn't feel overwhelmed by dread at the thought of giving birth to this baby. She was able to settle into her second trimester and maybe for a while actually enjoy being pregnant.

She certainly didn't mind having an excuse to raid the refrigerator in the middle of the night.

She pulled a pint of ice cream from the freezer and closed it behind her. She moved towards a drawer for a spoon, as a shadow appeared in the doorway. She glanced up, then shook her head with a smile. "So I'm up at 3am getting ice cream for the obvious reason," she gestured with the spoon towards her belly. "What's your excuse?"

He raised a folder in his hand. "I was working."

"And you still are." She had noted the careful look in his eyes; he was checking on her.

He didn't deny it.

She moved to the table and sat down. "Why are you here, Sark?"

"What do you mean?"

She dug into her ice cream and ate a spoonful before responding. "You must have asked me that at least a dozen times over the past four months. I thought it was my turn to ask you."

Sark took a chair at the table. "I am here because this where your mother feels I am currently the most needed."

Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "And did she decide that before or after you brought me here?"

"After."

Sydney smiled, slightly. "You probably didn't expect me to be this much trouble, did you?"

"On the contrary." He gave her a crooked smile. "I had no delusions about how much trouble you would be."

"So," she nodded towards his file. "What exactly were you work--" She stopped abruptly, dropping her spoon.

He stood. "Sydney?"

She looked at him, as she rested a hand on her belly.

"Are you alright?"

"The baby--"She cut herself off and looked at him. "It's kicking." She smiled slightly.

Sark watched her with a curious fascination.

Vaughn had been so excited the first time he'd felt Taryn kick. It seemed wrong not to share it with someone.

"Do you want to feel?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

He let her take his hand and she guided it to the spot on her belly where he could feel the light kicks. She almost laughed at the expression that had formed on his face.

It had only been a moment before her mother came from her study and into the kitchen, apparently having heard the two of them conversing. She gave them an amused look.

Sydney rose and approached her mother. "Mom, feel." She placed her mother's hand, having to wait a moment before the baby kicked again.

Irina smiled approvingly.

And Sydney had actually felt the most at home than she had since her arrival. Maybe it was the security of knowing she had a place to return to and feel at home that made her comfortable enough to want to start venturing out of the compound. She knew that had concerned her mother at first.

"Is there some place in particular you'd like to go? Something you need to get?"

"No. I've been here what, five months. I haven't left even once. I think it's time. I'll probably only be gone a couple of hours. Send someone with me if it'll make you feel better."

She knew that was exactly what her mother probably intended to do either way. She didn't mind. She knew that going out into the open was risking being spotted by the CIA. And that in her condition, her ability to defend herself would be limited, and that her belly would make it harder to remain unnoticed. Still, she had expected her mother to find someone to send along on her outings besides Sark.

"I hope you like shopping."

While browsing for new clothes was pointless, she enjoyed looking at books and jewelry. It had made her feel normal and it was nice to consider things that didn't seem quite as serious for a change.

But as she entered the last leg of her pregnancy, there were some things she couldn't ignore. Her mother went away on a business trip. She'd managed to limit them in the beginning of Sydney's stay, and then usually only for a day or two. But she went away for a week in August of that year to do all the business her organization required. She had wanted to make sure nothing would come up in the crucial time that approached. Irina wasn't unreachable but Sydney was surprised how much she missed being able to talk to her.

"I need to go out."

"Sydney, it's rather late to be--"

"My mother said I'm free to leave here whenever I want. So, you can come with me now, or follow me like you always do, because either way, I'm going into town."

Sark had stared at her a moment and then headed for the door. She gave him the location of a restaurant and he drove. He cast a questioning glance at her every so often and she knew that now she'd dragged him out she had to explain.

"Today is my anniversary."

"Congratulations," he said stiffly.

"I felt like I would explode if I just sat around today. Even though I know that's what I should be doing." She shifted and rested her hands on her stomach, twisting her ring. "I couldn't avoid thinking about them today."

He looked her in the eye. "You wanted to?"

She stared out the window. "Yes. No. I don't know."

He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. He turned off the car, and gave her a searching stare. He looked almost as though he might ask her something, but he just started to open the door.

"What?" she questioned.

He sat back and looked her in the eye. "Have you been happy since you left him?"

She didn't have to answer him, but his stare was so intense. "I don't know. Probably not. I don't think a day's gone by that I haven't wanted to go back."

He arched an eyebrow.

She sighed. "But I can't do that. I can't even call, there's nothing to say."

"Sydney, what did you run from?"

There was a question. "Me," she laughed, wryly. "Things I've done. Things I could do." She knew she made no sense but Sark didn't look at her as though he was confused. She could have continued, but she finally just pulled her door handle. "I'm hungry."

They headed into the restaurant.

It was her fourth anniversary.

It was her last anniversary.

When they had gotten back to the compound that evening, she'd taken off the ring on her finger. She'd said it, she wasn't going back ever. She couldn't torture herself day after day looking at it. She didn't have an anniversary anymore. She didn't have a marriage anymore. She rubbed the indent it had left behind on her ring finger.

Her fingers were swollen.

It would only have gotten more painful to keep wearing it.

Sydney knew Irina must have noticed when she returned but she just gave Sydney a hug and asked how she and the baby were.

Dr. Andreas's visits became more frequent in the later months. Sydney never felt comfortable around her. The doctor only asked her health and pregnancy related questions. She seemed to save most of her comments and recommendations for Irina to pass along. The doctor did seem to get more concerned, especially when Sydney began having Braxton Hicks contractions.

"Did they come this early with your last pregnancy?"

"Yes."

"Did that pregnancy reach full term?"

"She was born three weeks early."

The doctor frowned.

"She was fine," Sydney continued.

"And she was probably an acceptable birth weight by that time. This baby is underweight. For it to come early would not be advisable."

Sydney hadn't asked about the baby's weight, but the doctor had given her a look that made her certain the doctor felt that could have been prevented.

Irina had come in later to tell Sydney the doctor wanted her on complete bed rest. Sydney wondered why the doctor hadn't told her that herself. Maybe because Dr. Andreas knew how unappealing the thought of nearly two months in bed was going to be. But Sydney hadn't even thought of protesting when Irina had told her.

She filled her time with reading mostly. Her mother visited, usually questioning how she felt. But more than once she had wanted to have a serious conversation.

"Sydney, I know you were unsure about what you wanted to do when this baby is born. But you did seem certain about what you don't want."

She nodded. "I can't keep it."

"You wouldn't have to raise it alone. I'd help you."

"I don't think I'm ready to be a mother."

"Sydney, maybe you weren't ready when Taryn was born--"

"And nothing's changed since then!" Sydney interjected. "Except for the fact that I nearly killed her. I cannot have anything to do with this baby."

Her mother didn't continue to argue. Sydney realized it was more likely because Irina didn't want her getting upset rather than because she actually agreed. Maybe it worked. The baby didn't come early.

Sydney had gone into labor in the early morning of the eleventh of November. Dr. Andreas and her assistants arrived and set up. The doctor said there was no reason to expect complications but still wanted to be prepared. Her mother stayed by her side, even holding her hand for the last couple of hours. Sydney had actually felt calmer than she'd expected until she heard the baby's first cry. And then her own memories had attacked her.

Taryn's face was already red with distress. Her loud cry seemed to be directed right at Sydney...Sydney covered the baby's mouth with her hand, but it barely muffled the cry.

Dr. Andreas and her assistants had immediately began wiping the baby off and wrapping it in a blanket. Sydney could see its small arms and legs waving and kicking.

The small arms and legs flailed and kicked. She could feel the small baby fighting her from beneath the pillow.

Dr. Andreas had lifted the baby towards Sydney and announced it was a healthy, but small, five pounds, eight ounces.

Sydney didn't hold out her arms.

Dr. Andreas looked confused. She stared at Sydney. "You don't want to hold--"

Sydney just looked to Irina. "Take it."

Irina hesitated.

Dr. Andreas tried again. "Or just look--"

Sydney kept her eyes on her mother. "Please, take it."

Irina gave her a mildly disapproving look but allowed Dr. Andreas to slip the baby into her arms. Her mother rocked the baby, trying to quiet it. Irina turned to her daughter. "Sydney--"

Sydney swallowed. "You promised."

Irina stared at her a moment then nodded. "Do you want to choose a name?"

Sydney shook her head and turned away. "Just, take it." She heard her mother exit the room and lay flat on her back again.

"You don't even want to know the gender?" Dr. Andreas questioned.

Sydney didn't answer.

Dr. Andreas frowned at her. "My assistants will finish in here. I have to finishing examining your-the baby."

Sydney blinked, trying to stop the tears as the doctor left the room. She told herself it was better this way. Better not to know anything about it. Better to remember it safe in her mother's arms. She hadn't touched it.

She couldn't hurt it.

Not like what she'd done to Taryn.

Not like what she was doing to Taryn.

Shots fired from within the safe house. Vaughn gave her a questioning glance and she returned it. Without a word, both took off running. They burst into the safe house through a side entrance, weapons drawn. They entered the room cautiously, ready to shoot at anything that moved.

Immediately, Sydney's eyes were drawn to a figure on the floor in the front room. "Sark!" She hurried over and knelt beside him. He was bleeding heavily from a wound in his chest. She tore his shirt, checking the severity of his wound. She didn't have to ask what happened. Another body lay a few feet away.

Vaughn kicked the weapon away from it and checked it over. "Dead," he confirmed. He moved towards Sark, looking unconcerned about the other man's injuries. "Where's Taryn?! Is she still here?"

Sark managed a slight nod, between haggard breaths.

Sydney looked Sark in the eye and nodded towards the dead man. "How many more of them? Do you know?"

"Four," he choked out.

Vaughn turned at the sound of two more people entering the safe house. His weapon dropped as he saw it was just two of the men Sydney had brought from her compound.

Sydney pointed to Sark. "Get him to the truck."

The men immediately moved forward and lifted Sark.

Sydney looked at Vaughn. He cautiously looked into the rooms, and listened for movement, but the house seemed quiet. From the front room, they could see into the kitchen, through which was a hallway. There was a stairwell, leading upstairs. Vaughn headed towards it. "I'll go this way," he announced.

Sydney nodded and took the opposite route. She headed through the kitchen and down a hallway lined with doors. She opened each one cautiously, expecting to find someone lurking behind them. A linen closet. An empty bedroom. A bathroom. The hallway curved at the end to one last bedroom door. It was cracked open. She peeked through the crack. Inside she could see a man leaned over a bed. A child was struggling as he tried to hold a plastic bag over her head.

Taryn!

Sydney kicked the door wide open, her gun aimed at his head. "Freeze!" Sydney ordered, not willing to risk firing while he still held onto Taryn.

The man turned immediately, shoving Taryn to the floor beside the bed and lunging at Sydney. She fired one wayward shot before he knocked the weapon from her hands. She kicked his stomach fiercely, and he recoiled. Sydney had a second to glance see Taryn on the floor. The girl had freed herself from the bag and was gasping in fresh air.

Suddenly, Sydney felt arms grab onto her from behind. Another one of Sloane's men. The first man moved forward. She braced herself against the man behind her and kicked the first man's face. She then jabbed her elbow hard into the man behind, turned and kicked his knee cap, causing him to topple.

The first man recovered and grabbed her arm, swinging her back to face him. She grabbed at a lamp with her free hand and brought it back, forcefully slamming into his face. He released her and fell. She managed a kick to render him unconscious before the remaining man came forward again. She narrowly avoided a punch directed at her face. He pulled a bookcase from against the wall, shoving it at her and letting the books fall to the floor. He tore out a shelf and used it to deliver a blow to her stomach. She coughed, but grabbed onto it, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. He moved backwards, keeping his tight grip as he nearly backed out of the room. She shoved the shelf forward, pushing him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He released the board. She grabbed it and brought it down on his head. He collapsed to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Sydney swallowed, taking a moment to catch her breath. She turned to the corner where she'd left Taryn and her eyes widened. The child's eyes were full of tears, but in her arms was the gun Sydney had lost at the beginning of the fight. And she was pointing it directly at Sydney.

Sydney swallowed, realizing how terrified Taryn must be. She moved towards the girl cautiously, not wanting to startle her. "Taryn, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Just put the gun down."

Taryn's chin quivered, but she kept a tight grip on the gun.

Sydney held up her arms passively. "I know you've been through a lot scary things you don't understand. But you're okay now. You don't need the gun." She moved forward slowly, knowing once she got close enough she could snatch the weapon from the child's arms. "Taryn, my name is Sydney."

Taryn sniffled, but showed no recognition of her or the name.

Another foot closer and she could grab it. "Taryn, you are safe now, I promise." Sydney held out her hand. "Just--"

Taryn squeezed the trigger.

A single gunshot sounded.