Believe

Chapter Fifteen

Power

Irina smiled as she got word that Jack's plane had landed in Istanbul. She almost chuckled at how deeply he underestimated her, despite all his vows of never doing that exact thing again. He always assumed he was the better spy, and at times, she was willing to admit he was. But not this time. She would wait for them, wait for Sark to come to his death, wait for Rogan to come to his power. Her grandchild was the special one that Rambaldi spoke of. She was part of the bloodline that would bring forth Rambaldi's greatest powers. All she had to do was assume her role, let it play out in front of her, and wait the rest of it out.

Sark kept Rogan to the side of the building, as Sydney and Jack entered cautiously. He wasn't going to enter the building at all, unless Sydney called him in on their communication link. Their goal was to keep Rogan as far away from Irina as they possibly could. Since Irina didn't know they were coming she wouldn't be looking for Rogan. Rogan could tell that whatever was about to happen it was extremely important. The looks on all the grown up faces were somber, and the way Sydney hugged him made him worry. It was even worse than when she was going away on a long trip. Jack had ruffled his hair before they had split up, a show of affection from his grandfather that was rarely seen. Rogan turned to Mr. Sark, seeing him look even more serious than usual. He didn't know what was happening, and he didn't particularly enjoy being left out.

"Mr. Sark, what's 'appenin'?"

Sark shook his head, keeping watch around the scene without even looking at Rogan. "I need you to be silent right now, Rogan. We need to stay as quiet as possible, so I can concentrate."

Rogan had heard the concentration word before, but he wasn't quite sure what that meant. He figured now wasn't a good time to ask since Mr. Sark had just told him to be quiet, but he wished he knew. Maybe he could help Mr. Sark concentrate if he knew what it meant.

Cars drove through the streets. This building was hardly the abandoned warehouse Sark had been hoping for. This place was too crowded, too exposed, too easy to slip through unnoticed and hard to catch in such a place. Anyone could see him, see any of them and report it. There could be witnesses. He didn't like this plan much. He should have done this alone and insisted Jack be left out of this. He was too clouded in his judgment of Irina. He never thought clearly when she was involved. He should have made the plan himself.

He spoke uneasily into the mic, "Sydney, are you in?"

Her hushed voice came over his earphone, "I'm in. But something's not right, Sark. This is too easy. This can't possibly be this easy."

"I'm getting the same thought. Sydney, I'm coming in."

"No!"

Then the link went silent.

Sydney walked down a virtually empty corridor. She was surprised by how empty the building was compared to the activity she had seen outside. The building was plush, seemingly some kind of apartment building. Her mother was on the top floor; a penthouse of sorts. She had taken one set of stairs, her father another. She was supposed to go in first. Have a sort of confrontation with her mother while her father snuck through a back entrance. She had a few things she wanted to say to Irina, so she had accepted this plan. But something felt off. This seemed too easy. Just waltzing into Irina's room, confronting her without anything going wrong seemed impossible. The halls were far too empty. The situation wasn't right. And Sark had the same feeling. She could hear it in his voice when he spoke over the mic. As much as she wanted him in there for back up, she knew that would just make things worse. Sark couldn't be near Irina right now. Rogan had to be kept safe. Sark was about the only one she knew that could keep Rogan safe.

She told him no, intending to elaborate, but the communications link went silent. It was as if someone had simply switched them off. They had tested them before they had entered the building and everything had been fine. They weren't faulty. This could only mean one thing. Irina knew they were there. She had blocked the signal. She was waiting.

Sydney looked at the door in front of her. She had planned on picking the lock to enter, but a feeling came over her. She tried the knob and it twisted easily. Irina had left it wide open for her to enter. She was right. Irina was waiting.

"Hello, Sydney. Nice of you to join me."

Her figure was silhouetted against the wall, a contrast to the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Hi, Mom."

Jack hadn't been expecting what he had come upon. This was a surprise attack. Irina had no indication that he had been reunited with Sydney and Rogan, and he had been given what he had believed was reliable intel, so there should have been no problem in getting into this building to complete the plan. However, his contact was obviously corrupt. They were waiting on him not far from the door in the corridor. He had seen the first one and prepared to fight, but the others came fast. Before he could fight them off, he had five men holding him down, blocking his fists. They had him down in a way that rarely happened. He was Jack Bristow the Undefeatable. He should have known Irina was prepared. Irina was always prepared; she was always one step ahead of him. He had always been a match for her, but she seemed to be able to get the upper hand more often than not. Once again, she had managed this. He could only hope that Sydney would be over to compensate for his missing while he escaped the five goons.

"I was waiting for you. It's been a long time."

Irina's tone was oddly warm and inviting. Sydney knew that this was a ploy to make her feel slightly more relaxed, perhaps to make her let down her guard. No matter how kind Irina's voice was Sydney knew better. She had to remember all that she had done.

"I understand you finally met your grandson. He was surprised to meet you."

"He's an intelligent, attractive boy. Takes after his parents."

"Because you've met Rambaldi. Listen, Mother, I know you've planned on him coming into power, choosing the dark side and all that, but it's not going to happen."

Sydney stood tall, her muscles taut and ready to pounce should her mother decide to attack at any moment. Irina had a small, knowing smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with condescension.

"I'm sorry that we had to do things the way we did, but you haven't accepted your destiny. You never have. You've fought it all the way. But destiny is something you can't fight."

"Destiny isn't real. Life is what you make it. I intend to make my son's life as comfortable and wonderful as possible. Rambaldi doesn't factor into this equation, other than the fact that he helped give my son life. You don't factor into that equation, either. I can fight destiny. I can fight you."

Irina circled the room cautiously, preparing herself for Sydney's attack. She could see the fire in her daughter's eyes, and she knew that this was it. The final battle between the two of them. Soon Rogan would enter and The Chosen One would be destroyed by the child. She was ready when Sydney sprang forward, pushing her body back into a wall. Sydney grunted at the impact, but she jumped forward once again to punch Irina's stomach. Irina deflected the blow and threw her own. The fight seemed to just go on without anyone gaining an inch.

Sark couldn't explain the feeling of panic inside of his chest. The broken comms left him feeling helpless. Sark never felt helpless. He cursed himself for getting too involved with Sydney, involved with Rogan. He almost felt like Rogan was his family. He hadn't had a family for more than 15 years, but the unfortunate emotions were inside of him. He felt like he had a responsibility to someone other than himself. That was what would get him killed.

Rogan was trying to run after him with his short stubby legs, but the boy was only slowing him down. He was just trying to get to Sydney so he could end this on his terms. He wanted Rogan to stay behind, but he couldn't leave the child. He would be easily snatched up alone. He tried to accept the fact that Rogan would still need protecting while they tried to get to his mother, albeit slowly.

Sark heard the voices before Rogan and relief flooded through him for only a moment. He heard the voices turn into grunts as mother and daughter fought to the death to end this tangled mess of Rambaldi. Where was Jack? Why hadn't he entered to play his role in the final battle? Sark glanced around and saw no other guards around the hall. Something was seriously wrong for there not to be guards near Irina. She had been expecting them. He glanced at Rogan, wondering if they still had a chance at changing the Prophecy.

"Stay here, Rogan, for your own safety. I need to go help your mother. Do not move from this spot unless I instruct you to. Do you understand me?"

Rogan nodded with a look of terror on his face. This poor child was incredibly intuitive and he always knew when something terrible was about to happen. Sark ruffled the boy's hair in an unusual act of comfort before turning back to run into Irina's room. He hadn't noticed that things were already in motion that a gun from his bag had been missing before they had split up around the building, and that a young boy held it in his knapsack ready to play cops and robbers with his grandmother.

Sark's entrance didn't go unnoticed by Irina. A large smile spread across her face. She could almost taste the victory as The Coming came to pass. Everything was going as she had planned, despite the cuts and bruises she had spreading across her face, arms, and other extremities. Sark raised his gun, trying to get a clear shot when two guards came into the room, one pointing a gun directly to his temple, the other pointing one to the back of his head. Sark dropped the gun instantly, disappointed in himself for falling into such an obvious trap. He knew better than this. At least he had, before his emotions had gotten the better part of him. He had tried to push loving Sydney away, when he had left her that day with Rogan in her arms, knowing that he would never change. But he had. In subtle ways that most wouldn't notice. He was off his game and that was what had led him into this trap.

Sydney stopped battling Irina when she saw the situation Sark was in. Her hope that Sark would swoop in and help her kill her mother, since her father was delayed in coming, was dashed. Irina knew she wouldn't keep fighting as long as Sark was held at gunpoint unless Rogan's life was absolutely in danger at that very moment. She held her stance, but she stopped the actual fighting. Irina was circling her again, a look of satisfaction on her face. It was only a matter of time.

The look was wiped off her face almost instantaneously as a bullet went into her back, just barely missing her heart. She dropped to the ground, her shock written all over her face. Sydney whirled as Sark ducked to grab his gun and shoot the two guards down who had been distracted by the gun shot. Sydney ran to her son, who had fallen to the ground from the blast of the gun. A small handheld, the blast was still able to knock him to the floor when he had fired the gun from the doorway. How he had figured out to use the weapon was beyond Sydney. Perhaps it was a natural, inbred talent that came with the Bristow name. Where he had gotten it, she had an idea. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him.

"My baby, my baby…." She rocked him, unable to speak. The danger he had been in from outside forces and by his own. What if the gun had backfired? Or if he had pointed it the wrong way? Tears streamed down her face, falling into Rogan's dark hair. She heard Irina's muttering as the life faded out of her, but she didn't care what she had said.

Sark heard it however.

"He chose. Just as Rambaldi said. But he chose you…."

The confusion and depression in her voice mingled with pain as she exhaled her last breath. Sark rushed to Sydney pulling her into his own arms, holding onto the two people in the world that he cared about. The outcome of this had fallen into the realm of Rambaldi's Prophecy, but the ending had turned out differently. The Coming was hype. The Coming had ended with Rogan saving his mother and himself. A four year old had saved his life. What would Alecksandria think of this outcome? She likely hadn't imagined it in her wildest dreams.

Jack entered the room, staring at the aftermath of the event. The dead guards, as well as Irina lying in the middle of the floor, left him wondering what exactly had gone down. Escaping his own guards had taken some finesse, but as he was Jack Bristow, he was successful.

"Sydney. Are you all right? Sydney?"

She looked up at her father, pain in her eyes.

"Rogan shot Irina. He had Sark's gun…I think he must have snuck it from Sark's again and put it in his own backpack. I don't know how he could use it. He did. He saved us…"

The unspoken words hung in the air. He had killed his grandmother. He had committed murder. This young, innocent child had committed murder.

Jack knelt down before them, waiting for Sydney to continue. "We're not going back to LA. We can't. I have to keep him away from this life. Dad, look at what happened. I've stopped the Prophecy. Now I have to keep him safe. I haven't done a good job of that these last four years."

"We'll find you a safe place. We'll give you a new identity." Jack was ready to continue on with a list of things they would do when Sark spoke.

"We'll go to Whitechapel. We'll stay there. We'll be safe there. Rogan will be safe."

Sydney hadn't shrugged his arms away from her. The way his arms felt around her left her feeling warm, and at the moment, that was what she needed. Her anger at him had melted the minute she had her son to focus on once more, his pain and sorrow more important to her than any other all-consuming feeling. She turned to look at him, his blue eyes, his proud, knowing smirk on his face. She felt the pull between them once again, the magnetism that had been there since the moment she had seen him in that warehouse. The power he possessed was something she needed, something Rogan needed. She could see the emotions in his eyes: love, pain, power, and fear.

"You'll let Rogan and I stay at your hideaway?"

"We'll stay there. We can keep Rogan completely safe."

Jack was ready to intrude with his opinion, but Sydney held up her hand. "I want him away from this life."

"Whitechapel is away from this life, Sydney. It's my sanctuary. It can be yours too."

"Sanctuary."

"I can't promise to give this life up for you or Rogan. I am who I am. But I can keep you away from predators, keep you safe. I've always had Rogan's best interest in mind since we found him. Even when I took him to Irina."

Sydney balked at that statement, but she didn't refuse. Whitechapel was safe. Home. She couldn't say Sark made her feel safe. He made her feel challenged and off balance. But she couldn't imagine having a life without him again either. Even when she felt like killing him he invaded her thoughts. He did care for her son. He had shown that time and again. He cared for her too. They just had a different way of showing it.

He could see the indecision in her eyes. She was being cautious and rightfully so. But he knew he would be best for her and Rogan. Or maybe she would be best for him. He saw her fight going out of her, the fire going and the acceptance filling her. Before she could respond he leaned forward to kiss her, one of possessive passion. She didn't fight him, no slapping or protest. She succumbed to the feeling, forgetting her son and her father for a moment, and only remembering how good it felt to kiss Sark again.

"Rogan will be happy there. He was happy there. It will be our sanctuary…you will be."

The End