Title: First Impressions |
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Chapters 31-36 |
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Chapter 31 Sydney paces back and forth, the echo of her shoes scuffing the cement floor resounding through the warehouse. She looks around and idly wonders if this is owned by the CIA or just an affiliate. After her conversation with her dad the other day, she hasn’t been thinking of much else. His suspicions of an orchestrated meeting between her and Michael have aroused her own suspicions. In the beginning, she didn’t feel that her dad’s reasoning was sound, but knowing that there was something he was withholding made her wonder. There were only two people around at that time that could either validate or discredit her father’s theory: Anne, and of course Michael. Speaking with Michael first made the most sense. She can speak openly about it with Michael, but she would have to find a way to question Anne without revealing anything. After telling him that she needed some space, contacting Michael had not been easy. She needs time away from him to give herself time to heal. Her life with Danny, and the end of that life, is still so fresh that she can’t even begin to think about the role , if any, that Michael will play in her life. But she doesn’t have a choice now, she needs to see him to try to get to the bottom of this. Which brings her to this warehouse, waiting for him to arrive. Sydney hears the heavy door to the outside open and close, followed by the sound of him walking toward her. When he rounds a corner of stacked crates, she inhales deeply, trying to keep calm. “Hi Syd,” he says, the wrinkles on his forehead revealing his concern. “Hi. Thanks for coming.” “No problem,” he says, slipping his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. Sydney takes a moment to admire the way he looks. She muses that he has always looked good in a suit. He used to grumble about the fact that he had to wear one to his hockey games, but she used to love it. Sydney is startled when Michael asks her why she’s smiling. She didn’t even realize she was. “I was just remembering how much you used to hate wearing suits,” she tells him. “Yeah, and now I have to wear them every day,” he says, returning her smile. “It’s still not my favourite thing to wear, but I’m used to it now.” “You look good in a suit,” she says softly. “Thanks,” he says. They are silent for a minute, and then he breaks it. “Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t ask me here to talk about the past.” “Actually, I did,” she says, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She sees the perplexed look on his face, and continues. “When I spoke to my dad the other day, we finally talked about what happened in Slough.” “How did that go?” “As expected. But I have to ask you something.” He nods and waits for her to continue. “Were you aware that he thinks our meeting was not a coincidence?” “No,” he says. “Where did he get that from?” “I don’t know,” she says, her frustration evident. “He just says that it’s too coincidental that we would meet, but he knows something. As usual, he’s not telling me everything.” “Well, what do you think?” “Well, I suppose it is a coincidence that our fathers were both CIA, but it’s not that much of a stretch, is it?” she asks. “I don’t think so,” he agrees. “But…” “But what?” “Well, I just can’t let it go at that. Obviously my dad is not about to share whatever information he may have, so I’ve been trying to figure out what it might be. I’ve been thinking back to that time, about the people around us,” she explains. “Are you considering that Professor Koss may be involved somehow?” he asks. “Of course,” she says quietly. “But it’s preposterous. Anne has nothing to do with this world.” “Syd, you thought that your dad had nothing to do with this world,” Michael points out. “I know, but Anne never had anything to do with him. She doesn’t even like him. She was a friend of my mom’s, that’s all. And besides, there are too many variables.” “What do you mean?” “The fact that we started our friendship at the track, for one thing,” she says. “Yes, but I never would have approached you at the track if I hadn’t met you when you were with Anne.” “Alright, but she had no control over you taking her class,” Sydney argues. “Hmm,” Michael says thoughtfully. “What?” Sydney asks, not liking the implications of his mutterings. “Well, I was advised to take that class.” “You were?” A knot has started to form in Sydney’s stomach. This is not what she wanted to hear. When she arranged to meet with Michael, she expected that he would agree that there was no ground for concern. Michael nods. “The administration told me that I had to make up a few credits that summer if I wanted to graduate the following year. I told them that it was a mistake, I had done well in all my classes, there was nothing to make up. But they told me there were new requirements for my degree, and that they had notified me in sophomore year, and I still hadn’t met them. Since my course load was full for my last year, there was nothing I could do but take summer classes. And Anne’s course was the only one that met one of the requirements that summer.” “Still…” Sydney starts. “Syd,” he interrupts, his expression grim, “I never received notification in sophomore year. I thought it was all a bunch of administrative bullshit then, but now…” Sydney sits down on a crate, and rests her head in her hands. This can’t be happening, she thinks. “Michael, I love Anne. We’ve always been close. She… she flew out for Danny’s funeral, even though they never got the chance to meet! After my mom died, Anne sort of stepped in to take on that role. I can’t believe that she would be involved in this.” She stands up and starts to pace. “And she didn’t want me to get involved with you in the first place! She warned me to be careful because you were so much older, she was afraid that I would have my heart broken!” Michael looks down and Sydney suspects he’s feeling the truth of Anne’s warning, but she ignores it. That’s not what they’re talking about right now. “Besides, how could she have so much pull with administration? That doesn’t make any sense.” “You’re right, Syd, it doesn’t. But you have to admit that there’s something odd about it.” Sydney doesn’t answer him. She’s not ready to agree, but she doesn’t refute it either. “You have to talk to Anne, Syd. See what you can find out.” Sydney nods, but still doesn’t speak. “And I’ll look into it too, see what I can find out,” he looks at her sympathetically, understanding what her relationship with Anne means to her. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll let you know what I find out,” he tells her. Before he leaves, he reaches out and places a hand on her arm. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Sydney doesn’t know if that’s true, and she can see that he doesn’t either, but she appreciates it. She bestows a small smile upon him, which he returns, and then leaves the way he came. His small gesture weakens her resolution to stay away from him. It would be so easy to let him comfort her, to fall back into a relationship with him. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She’s not ready, and ultimately the relationship would collapse under the pressure of the issues surrounding her. Sydney sighs as she realizes that now is not the time to be thinking about this. Once again she has to place her feelings about Michael on a shelf and deal with them later. Right now she has to focus her attention on Anne and what her involvement in all this might be. Chapter 32 The taxi slowly creeps through the Manhattan gridlock. Normally, the slow pace would annoy Sydney, but today she appreciates the extra time to prepare. Anne was thrilled when Sydney called to tell her she would be in New York on business and wanted to stop by. She tried to insist that Sydney stay with them, but Sydney made an excuse about her hotel being near the bank. Needing to lie about the bank has become second nature to Sydney, but this is the first time she’s using it as an excuse to get out of something in her personal life, and it makes her feel ill that she has to do so. But depending on how this conversation goes with Anne, she may want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Sydney hates this. Anne has always been a constant in her life, the one person she could turn to when she had no one else. Now she’s got reason to doubt Anne’s loyalty, and it makes her feel nauseous. Sydney wonders if she can bear to discover that another person in her life is disloyal to her, but she needs to know the truth. The cab finally reaches Anne’s building, and it’s time for Sydney to face her, whether she’s ready or not. She takes the elevator to the 18th floor, feeling queasier as it rises. Sydney has never felt this way around Anne. Their relationship has always been one of comfort and ease, the kind of relationship she would have liked to have had with her mom, if she’d lived. Anne answers the door a moment after Sydney knocks, and Sydney can tell that she’s happy and excited to see her. Anne pulls her into a big hug, and Sydney, trying to forget why she’s there for a moment, hugs her back. “Sydney, it’s so good to see you,” Anne says as they sit on her sofa. “As much as I’d like to see you quit that job at the bank, I’m glad when it brings you here.” Sydney smiles and shakes her head, thinking that Anne is as bad as Francie when it comes to the bank. Worse, perhaps, since Anne has always been concerned with Sydney’s education, and her ambitions to become a professor. “I can’t quit my job, Anne.” “You can, Sydney, I think you just choose not to.” “It’s not that simple,” Sydney says. Then to change the subject, “How is Ben?” “He’s wonderful. He would have loved to have seen you, but he’s in London this week, promoting his new book.” Sydney smiles and nods. She likes Ben, and under normal circumstances she would have liked to see him too. But this time, it’s just as well that he’s not here. Sydney knows she should wait to begin the conversation she’s come to have, and engage in more small talk so that she doesn’t arouse any suspicions. But she can’t wait. It’s eating her up inside and she needs to get this over with. “Anne, can I ask you something? How long had you been at Stanford when I came up to stay with you that summer?” “Um,” Anne says, thinking. “What year was that?” “89.” “Two years, then. I went up there from UCLA in 1987. Why, Sydney?” she asks. “Oh, I’m just thinking about my future, you know, teaching,” Sydney lies. “Why did you decide to make the move?” “Well, they approached me with an incredibly generous offer. But Sydney, don’t expect that, because it doesn’t often happen. I was only 37 at the time. Offers like that don’t often come to those so young or inexperienced. I was really lucky.” Sydney smiles, but her thoughts are engaged in deciding what this means. The fact that Anne arrived at Stanford after Michael fits, and the fact that Anne’s offer was unusual doesn’t help. This was not what she wanted to hear. But Sydney reassures herself with the thought that it still doesn’t mean that Anne is directly involved. Someone could have arranged for Anne to get that offer, knowing that she would never refuse it. “That was a great visit,” Sydney says, trying to alter the topic a little without leaving it altogether. “It was, but I seem to remember that it ultimately led to your first heartbreak,” Anne reminds her. “I like to think of it as leading to my first love,” Sydney says. “I don’t regret my relationship with Michael, not anymore.” “That’s good to hear,” Anne says, “because I’ve always felt a little responsible for you meeting him.” “What do you mean?” Sydney asks, her heart starting to beat a little faster. Her demeanor remains calm, but inside she’s a mess. Anne has just said the one thing that Sydney has come to discover the truth of. “Just that you wouldn’t have met him if I hadn’t invited you up that summer.” “Why did you invite me up that particular summer?” Sydney asks. Anne’s expression changes, and Sydney can tell she’s hiding something. “Anne?” she asks, the knot in her stomach tightening. “Sydney, I never really wanted you to know this, but you’re old enough to understand it.” “What?” Sydney asks. “Well, that spring, I got an phone call from your aunt Amy,” Anne begins to explain. Sydney is shocked. She didn’t realize that Aunt Amy even knew who Anne was. “I had never met her, but she explained that she was your dad’s sister. She told me that she was concerned about you because…” Anne trails off, as if not wanting to say the next part. “Because what?” “Because she felt that your father was neglecting you,” Anne says, looking away from Sydney apologetically. “That’s no big news to me, Anne.” “I know, Sydney, but you know that I’ve never said anything outright regarding my feelings about the way your father was raising you, and Amy felt the same way. Which is why she asked me not to say anything to you about her contacting me. Anyway, I guess that she had planned to invite you to stay with them for a couple of weeks in Toronto that summer, but that something had come up and it wasn’t possible.” “Why did she call you? How did she even know who you were?” “I don’t know. I guess I always assumed that you had talked about me, and she thought that I would be a good person to call. She suggested that I invite you up to Palo Alto for a couple of weeks, and I was more than happy to do so. I always love spending time with you.” Sydney tries to process the information Anne has just given to her. She has no reason to doubt what Anne is saying. Why would Anne create a lie like this when she knows that it would only take one phone call to disprove it? She’s now convinced that Anne didn’t deliberately set her up. It’s obvious that someone did, but Anne was only a pawn in the process. Sydney shrugs off the notion that Aunt Amy was involved either, but she’ll call her as soon as she gets back to her hotel. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner, Sydney,” Anne says sincerely. “Don’t worry about it, Anne. You really didn’t need to protect me from the fact that you and Aunt Amy didn’t approve of the way Dad was raising me, though. That’s something that neither of you could ever hide very well, nor should you have.” “You know, Sydney,” Anne says in a blatant attempt to put an end to an unpleasant conversation, “I never did offer you anything to eat or drink. I’m going to put some coffee on, would you like some?” Sydney agrees and leans back and closes her eyes while Anne moves about the kitchen. She feels relieved that Anne wasn’t involved, and happy that she can now enjoy a real visit with her. But she’s even more perplexed now than when she came. Someone set her and Michael up. But who? Chapter 33 The warehouse is dark and quiet as Sydney walks toward the spot where she’s meeting Michael. She got back from New York late last night, and wanted to see him as soon as possible. As soon as Sydney left Anne’s and got back to her hotel, she called Aunt Amy. And as suspected, she had no idea what Sydney was talking about. Sydney hung up the phone perplexed. Whoever set her up obviously had intricate knowledge of the inner workings of her family and personal life. She spent a restless night in her hotel room, trying to understand who might be behind this, and why they would orchestrate a meeting between her and Michael. Sydney sees Michael waiting for her, his back turned.. She stops for a moment, her urgency to share what she’s learned suddenly taking a backseat as her nerves return. She wonders if she wants to see him more to trade information, or for personal reasons. She thought about him almost constantly while she was in New York, and her thoughts were not limited to their investigation. Her resolve to be apart from him isn’t working out very well, she can’t keep away from him, and she suspects that this would be the case even if they weren’t both involved in this investigation. Oddly, her guilt over wanting to be with him has also abated. Michael turns around and spots Sydney. “Hi,” he says. “Hi.” She gives him a weary smile as she crosses her arms in front of her. “You look tired,” he says. “I feel a little worn out,” she admits. Michael looks concerned, but Sydney can tell that he’s holding himself back from expressing it, trying not to overstep the lines she’s drawn for them. “So,” she says, getting down to business, “Anne had nothing to do with it.” “Really?” he asks, somewhat surprised. “Well, I suppose that’s not true. She was very involved, just indirectly. She didn’t knowingly set us up.” “How was she involved then?” Sydney tells Michael everything she had learned from Anne. She tells him about the call from whoever it was pretending to be her aunt, and about Anne’s offer from Stanford, after he had already become a student there. “Speaking of Stanford,” she says, “did you find anything out from them?” “No,” he says, shaking his head. “When I called them, they said that my records had been sealed. When I used my CIA clearance, they couldn’t find the records. I ended up flying up there, but by the time I got there, they said that everything had been a big mistake, and handed them over. Everything was fine. But there was obviously something in there that someone wanted to cover-up. Whoever is behind this obviously still has connections at the school.” Michael had started pacing while speaking, but now he stops and looks directly at her. “Syd, who the Hell is behind this?” “I wish I knew. Whoever it is had intimate knowledge of my family, and they were apparently keeping tabs on you as well. I don’t know who, I don’t know why…” “How could they have known that we would even relate to each other?” Michael asks, agitated. “I mean, there was a pretty big age gap. They could have gone to all the trouble of setting all this up, and then our paths could have passed once or twice without even having a real conversation. Was their goal for us to fall in love, or was that a byproduct?” Sydney is silent, knowing that he’s just throwing out the questions they’re both asking themselves, and not expecting an answer. Her heartbeat quickens when she hears him mention them falling in love. Even though she now knows that his love for her was real after all, those years of doubt still enter into her subconscious. Hearing him say he loved her still affects her. “Syd, you know what we have to do, don’t you?” “Yeah,” she says solemnly. “I have to go to my dad. I think this is as far as we can go without his help. I don’t know if he knows about Anne or Aunt Amy, but if he doesn’t he deserves to know. And we deserve to know whatever it is he’s keeping from us, too.” “Yes,” Michael says, nodding in agreement. “Set it up and let me know.” “You don’t have to… I mean, I can do it on my own.” “Syd, I’m as involved in this as you are,” he counters. “I know. And I’m sorry for that.” “What?” he asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?” “Because I think your life would be much less confusing without me in it. I don’t know who’s behind this, but it seems that they’re mostly interested in screwing with my life. I used to think that I was so in control of my life. SD-6 was hard to juggle with school, but I felt that it was my choice to be there. I felt so empowered by it. And then I found out that it was all a lie, and I felt so used, like Arvin Sloane’s puppet. And now I know that the manipulation of my life began even farther back than that. Anyway, I’m sorry that you got involved in this sick game.” “I’m not,” Michael says, taking her hands in his. “I don’t know is behind this, or why they did it, but whatever the reason, I’ll never regret meeting you. I’ll never regret getting to know you, and falling in love with you. Syd, the time we spent together was amazing, and I wouldn’t give it back for anything.” Sydney nods, not trusting herself to say anything. He has her on the verge of tears, but she doesn’t want to cry, not again. It seems like all she does these days is cry, and she’s tired of it. “Me neither,” she says finally. Michael looks at her longingly, and she knows her expression mirrors his. They are drawn closer together, and Sydney closes her eyes as their lips meet. She loses herself in their kiss, and she is surprised when Michael pulls away abruptly. “I’m sorry, Syd,” he says, turning away from her. “You asked me for space, for time to grieve for Danny. I’m sorry.” “Michael,” she says softly, laying her hand on his arm. “Logic tells me that’s the right way to go. I don’t think that I should be with someone else so soon after losing Danny. But the way I feel…my heart conflicts with logic.” Michael turns toward her, looking confused and somewhat hopeful. “You’re not just someone,” she continues. “You’re the love of my life.” The tears she had been holding back before now fall down her face. “That’s hard to admit. I was going to marry Danny, that title should belong to him. But it doesn’t, it never did. I’ve been fighting this since the moment I saw you again, but… God, this isn’t fair to you. I’m in no place to be entering into another relationship right now, even with you. But I can’t stop thinking about you, I can’t seem to keep myself away. I need you Michael. I love you.” He is clearly shocked by her revelation, and she wonders for a moment if it was too much, too soon. But then he closes the gap between them and kisses her, passionately this time, unable to hide his hunger. When they break apart, they stare at each other for a long time. Michael finally breaks the silence. “I love you too.” Chapter 34 Sydney and Michael sit side by side at a small rectangular table in the warehouse, waiting for her dad to arrive. Sydney unconsciously begins to jiggle her leg, and Michael reaches a hand under the table to still it. “Sorry,” she says, looking over at him sheepishly. “It’s alright,” he tells her, smiling. “You just have to calm down, Syd.” “I know,” she says. The last twenty-four hours have been amazing. She and Michael have spent the whole time together; talking, laughing, kissing, and trying their best not to talk about their impending conversation with her father. They stayed at the warehouse until early afternoon, when Michael told her that their time there was up and they had to leave. Neither of them wanted to be away from the other, though, so they went back to his apartment. They travelled in separate cars, and Sydney was exceptionally cautious about not being followed. She arrived an hour after him, and it had already felt like they’d been apart too long. They were all over each other as soon as the door closed, but Michael pulled away when the clothes started to come off. He pulled her to the couch and told her that he thought they should slow things down. Sydney agreed. Having fallen into bed so quickly the last time, it was a wise decision. But not an easy one, Sydney now thinks as Michael’s hand lightly caresses her knee. They hear the warehouse door opening in the distance, and Michael removes his hand from her knee, safely clasping it with the other on top of the table. By the time her dad arrives at the table, they look nothing but serious and professional. “Hello Sydney, Vaughn,” he says. “Hi Dad.” “Jack.” “Who wants to tell me what this is all about?” Michael looks at Sydney, and she begins to speak. She starts by telling her dad that the way he was acting aroused her suspicions, and that she began investigating the circumstances surrounding her meeting Michael. He tries to interject at this point, but Sydney stops him. “You were right, Dad, but why don’t you let me finish telling you what I’ve discovered, and then you can tell me how much of that you already knew.” Her words silence him, and she continues with descriptions of her trip to New York to see Anne. When she mentions Aunt Amy, he looks surprised, but not shocked, confirming her belief that he still knows more than she does. “And that’s it, other than the fact that Michael had a hard time accessing his Stanford records for a couple of days. Dad, what do you know?” she asks. “Sydney…” he says, shaking his head and looking down at the table. She knows this look, and she knows that it means that she should leave it alone. “Dad, I need to know what it is you know. We need to know. You can’t keep this from us. Do you know who’s behind this?” Her dad sighs and leans back in his chair, looking very unlike his usual strong, stone-faced self, instead looking like a tired and weary man. “Yes,” he finally utters, looking at her. “I think I do. I was never sure, but…” “But what?” Sydney asks, a lump in her throat. She looks over at Michael, who has remained silent throughout the conversation, letting her take the initiative. He gives her a supportive look, and she turns back to her dad. “But the fact that she used your Aunt Amy supports my suspicions.” “She?” Her dad straightens up, and she notices his veneer change back to hardened CIA agent once again. Hardly able to breathe, Sydney waits for him to speak. “Your mother.” Sydney’s stomach churns, and she’s afraid she’s going to lose its contents. The room seems to be spinning, and she takes a deep breath to try to compose herself. She feels Michael’s hand rubbing her back, and she clutches the table to try to bring herself back to reality. “What?” she says, almost inaudibly. She looks up at her dad across the table. He doesn’t answer, knowing that she heard him the first time and is just trying to make some sense of it. “How could it have been mom, she was already dead.” “No, Sydney, she wasn’t,” he says, his face still expressionless. “She isn’t.” Sydney gasps, and is afraid that the dizziness will completely overtake her. “What do you mean, Jack?” Michael asks, finally taking part in the conversation. “How is that possible?” “She didn’t die in that car accident. Sydney, she was a spy.” “What?” she asks, stunned. “For the KGB.” This time Sydney actually does vomit, barely making it to a trashcan that’s sitting on the other side of their section of the warehouse. When she’s finished, she feels a gentle hand on her back, and Michael’s voice trying to soothe her. She doesn’t like that he’s seeing her like this, but she’s too overcome to push him away. She turns around and lets herself be enveloped by his arms, not caring what her father thinks. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, her voice muffled from her proximity to Michael’s chest. “I can’t deal with this right now.” “Sydney, wait,” her dad says, rising from his chair and coming to stand beside them. “I know how this feels. “Not exactly,” she replies, “you’ve had a lot longer to make sense of this than I have.” “There was a time when this was news to me, too. Your mother was sent to the United States to steal secrets from a ranking officer of the C.I.A. How she and I happened to meet, how she supposedly fell in love, I thought it was all true. But it was just a set-up.” “Even her wanting to have a family? Was that just part of the plan, too?” she asks. She turns to leave, and her dad doesn’t stop her. She expects Michael to follow, but he doesn’t. She turns around and looks at him expectantly. “I just… I’m sorry, Syd, but I need to know something.” Turning to her dad, he asks “exactly how do I fit into all of this?” Chapter 35 Sydney turns to her father, waiting for an answer to Michael’s question. “Jack?” Michael asks impatiently. “I think that you should both sit back down,” he says. Michael walks back toward the table, and Sydney reluctantly follows. It’s not that she doesn’t want to know how Michael is involved, but at the moment she’s feeling more than a little overwhelmed. She has just discovered that her mother is not only alive, but that she was also a spy for the KGB. She reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and realizes that her hands are shaking. She has so many questions that she wants answered, like what her mother has been doing since she disappeared, and yes, how Michael is involved, but she doesn’t know how much more she can handle right now. She wishes that she could explain this to Michael, and ask him if he can just give her a little more time to process the information that she’s got without receiving any more, but she doesn’t. She looks at him, his jaw set with a determination that she’d seen before when he told her it was over in the hotel in Slough, and she knows that there’s nothing she could say to make him wait any longer to discover his role in all this. So she sits down next to him and waits for her father’s explanation. “Vaughn, how much do you know about your father’s death?” “Only what’s in his file,” Michael says, a little stunned. “Why?” Sydney looks at her dad expectantly, but he hesitates before speaking. It’s obvious that he’s stalling, and she wonders what he can have to say that can be as bad as what he just told her. “Jack,” Michael says, an edge to his voice. He has a lot of patience, but she can tell that he’s losing it now. “Your father and I didn’t have a very good relationship, Michael. At first I thought that we just rubbed each other the wrong way. But it was more than that. I always felt like he was watching me and analyzing my every move. I thought that he suspected me of being a traitor, and I was right, he did. We had a dinner party one night at our home, and I caught him in my private office. It came to blows at the point, and he told me he was on to me, and that I should watch my step.” He stops speaking, leaning back in his chair. Sydney can tell that Michael is anxious for him to continue, but he doesn’t press this time. Her father finally continues. “I never reported the incident, and apparently neither did he. I guess he wanted to wait until he had more to go on, I don’t know. But in the next couple of months, his attitude appeared to have changed. I still felt like he was watching me, but he was less hostile toward me. In retrospect, I think that his suspicions shifted away from me, and towards my wife.” He pauses again, and then looking directly at Michael, “he died shortly after that. After I found out about Laura… about Irina,” he says, shifting his gaze to Sydney. “That’s her real name, Irina Derevko. After I found out about Irina, I began to suspect that William was getting too close in his investigation, and that she killed him.” Sydney had thought things couldn’t get worse, but they just did. Everything that she’s learned today has shocked her, but the horror of this revelation is almost enough to push her over the edge. She hasn’t had time to try to sift through the information given to her in the last hour, with the exception of fleeting contemplations of her mother’s true character. But already she had begun to make excuses for her. Yes, she worked for the KGB, but was Sydney any better as a spy for her own country? But the idea of her mother as a cold-blooded killer had not crossed her mind. The fact that her victim was Michael’s father just multiplies the shock. She can’t begin to think of how he’s feeling at this moment, and she is almost afraid to look at him. When she does, she sees his face contorted into a horrible expression of rage and grief. “And I suppose you never reported that, either,” he says. Sydney is surprised by the venom in his tone. “And all the years I’ve known you, Jack…” “How could I have told you anything when I hadn’t told Sydney about her mother?” her dad asks sternly. “I couldn’t have been sure that you wouldn’t have contacted her with that information, endangering her. And no, I didn’t report it. It was only a suspicion, there was no proof. At least not until a few weeks ago.” “What happened a few weeks ago?” Sydney asks, uncertain whether she actually wants to know. The story just keeps getting worse. She looks at Michael to try to decipher what he’s feeling, but his face is tilted away from her, and she can’t see his expression. “I found a box of books that had belonged to your mother. I thought I had given them all to you, but apparently not. These were books that I had given her, and I guess I was holding onto them because… I discovered some writing in one of the books, in code. I had in deciphered, and it turned out to be a list of aliases, names used by CIA officers, all killed in the line of duty.” He turns his gaze from Sydney to Michael. “Your father’s name was on the list. It was the confirmation I needed. And yes, Agent Vaughn, I did report it.” Michael’s face is ashen, and he is shaking his head slightly. She wants to reach out to him, but she’s almost afraid to. “This…” he says faintly, not looking at either Bristow. “This is… I have to go.” He abruptly gets up from the table and starts walking away. “Michael,” Sydney says, following him and touching his shoulder. “I can’t… Sydney, I can’t… I need to be alone right now,” he says, avoiding looking into her eyes. “I can’t be with you right now.” Sydney withdraws her hand, and he turns and walks away. She hears the warehouse door slam in the distance, its thud sickening and final. She turns around to face her father, wanting to delve further into this with him. She’s added these pieces of information to the long list of things he should have disclosed a long time ago, and she’s ready to have it out with him. A few minutes ago she just wanted to flee and forget, but after Michael’s reaction, she’s ready to fight. But when she turns toward him, she doesn’t see the granite veneer she’s come to expect from him, but a man who looks weary. He looks up at her and his lips turn up in a smile that is halfway between sardonic and rueful. “I know you think that nothing touches me, Sydney, but that’s not true.” “You should have told me sooner,” she says in a quiet voice that borders on a whisper. She’s lost her urge to shout, but she’s not about to let him off easy, either. “Sydney,” he says, running a hand across his forehead. “There are a lot of things I should have done differently, but I didn’t. But everything I’ve done has been in what I felt to be your best interest. You have to believe that.” “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” “I don’t blame you.” Sydney sits down in the nearest chair, the one Michael had earlier occupied. She feels like all the energy has been drawn from her body, and it’s taking everything that’s left not to just let herself sag down in the chair. She has lost her desire to fight, and to ask questions. She looks at her dad, and tries not to fall apart, but she’s failing. “I’m so tired,” she says, tears gathering in her eyes. “Daddy, I’m so tired.” He surprises her by coming around the table and sitting in the chair next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “I know you are, Honey,” he says, pulling her head in to rest on his shoulder, “I know you are.” All the emotions that Sydney has been trying to keep dammed up burst forth, and she lets herself do what she hasn’t done in twenty years. She lets herself fall apart in front of her dad, and trusts him to pick up the pieces. Chapter 36 Sydney paces back and forth at the foot of the king sized bed, leaving a trail in the blue shag carpet. She stops and looks at herself in the mirror propped on the worn wooden dresser. The woman looking back at her looks great. Her hair is perfect, her clothes straight and well matched. She looks calm and composed, but once again, Sydney is using her years of disguising her true emotions to her advantage. Inside she’s a mess. She sits down on the bed and runs her hands over the polyester hotel bedspread, smooth until her hand snags on something. She looks down to see that it’s a cigarette burn, perfectly round but charred around the edge. “Just like me,” she whispers, though there’s no one around to hear her. At least not yet. After not having heard from Michael for a week and a half, he finally made contact. He told her to meet him at this hotel, a rundown establishment near the beach that likely rents rooms by the hour. Sydney looks around with disdain and thinks that he could have arranged for a nicer place. But then maybe he thinks that this is all she deserves, and maybe he’s right. But these thoughts are fleeting as they are ushered away by the predominant thing on her mind. What Michael will say when he gets here. The past week and a half has been torturous. In all the years that Sydney felt detached from her father, her solace was the portrait she held in her heart of the ideal mother she believed Laura Bristow to be. Now she knows that she was wrong. The image she held of her mother has not only been tarnished, but shattered into a million tiny shards. There was no Laura Bristow. And what Sydney has wanted most in the last week and half has been to burrow herself into Michael’s arms and stay there until everything feels better, but she can’t. Instead she has kept her distance, given him his space. He has had his own demons to deal with, and the fact that they now wear her mother’s visage has made it impossible for her to imagine that they have any kind of a future together. The thought makes her stomach churn in that familiar way, and she tries to calm herself. The last thing she needs right now is to throw up again. She’s become intimate with the fixtures in her bathroom lately, and she has consequently lost about five pounds. Her body has been failing her too, showing signs of weakness it hasn’t shown in years. Very dangerous in her profession, but her dad covered for her, for once not having to lie. He simply told Sloane that she had learned the truth about her mother, and Sloane recommended that she take a few weeks of personal leave. He also arranged for her to have the same time away from the CIA. She’s happy to have the time, knowing that she’s not only physically off her game, but mentally too. Working now would not only endanger herself, but everyone around her. She feels grateful, but gives no credit to Sloane, only to her dad. Her relationship with her dad has only been getting better. She was angry at him at first, for keeping the truth about her mother from her. But she understands now, and realizes how hard this has been for him. Her mother entered their marriage under false pretenses, but he truly loved her. He had held the same ideal of Laura Bristow that Sydney had. Jack Bristow opened himself up to Laura in a way that Sydney can never truly understand. Before she was old enough to know that man, Irina Derevko ripped him apart and gave him an impermeable veneer that even his own daughter has been unable to penetrate. Only now that certain truths are finally being revealed, is he beginning to let her in, to let her know him in the way she has always yearned to. Sydney still doesn’t know what her mother’s motivation was in maneuvering her life in a way that she would cross paths with Michael. A million theories have run through her mind. Some are completely implausible, and some are too awful to think about, but there is one that Sydney secretly holds onto in a hope that there is a thread of decency in the woman who gave birth to her. She wonders if, just maybe, her mother felt remorse about William Vaughn’s death, and bringing Sydney and Michael together was a way of making amends for that. But she’ll probably never know. She will probably never find out what her mother would have done if they met and didn’t take to each other the way they did. But from what she’s learned about her mother recently, Sydney is sure that she would have had a plan B… and C, and D, and E… Sydney hears a key sliding into the lock in the hotel door, and her stomach clenches. She stands up and runs her hands over her clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles she might have accrued while sitting on the bed. If she were of another mind, she might laugh at the compulsion, but her thoughts are completely focused on the man about to walk through the door. When he finally appears, she sees that he looks as harrowed as she feels, not having the same talent as she to mask her emotions and general state of being. She looks into his eyes and sees something that wasn’t there before. She has always seen light and life when she’s looked into his eyes, but the light has flickered and dimmed. Sydney squeezes her eyes shut and turns away from him as she is reminded once more of her familial responsibility for the change she sees in him. “Sydney,” he says, his voice husky. “Don’t.” She doesn’t respond immediately, opting instead to distance herself further from him and look out the window. The view of the tiny parking lot is hardly breathtaking, but it serves its purpose of not having to look at Michael. “Don’t what?” she finally asks. She hears him sigh and move across the room. Her body tenses as he gets closer, but he stops before he reaches her. The bed creaks as he sits down in the spot she had recently occupied, and the tension leaves her shoulders in both relief and disappointment. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says meekly. Sydney is shocked to hear him say that, both because she doesn’t feel that there’s any way she can avoid blaming herself for the deeds of her own mother, and because she doesn’t think that he can avoid it either. She turns around to face him, not bothering to hide her expression. “I know how that must sound, coming from me,” he says, avoiding eye contact with her. “I know that my actions must have encouraged those feelings in you. I’m sorry for that.” He’s looking at her now, and she feels that the ball is now in her court. But she doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she sits in an armchair in the corner of the room. “My world was set off-kilter when I found out the truth about my father’s death, Syd,” he says, finally looking at her. “And it was all I could focus on. My grief, my need for revenge. But God, Syd, I’ve been a selfish bastard.” He looks down at his hands, the anguish on his face unmistakable. “I understand,” she says quietly. “That’s just it. You understand the pain that I’ve been going through, because you’ve been going through the same thing, but magnified by a thousand,” he says, getting up from the bed. His voice is laced with frustration and anger, and she watches as he crosses the room and comes back again. “What I learned about my father didn’t change the way that I think or feel about him. It didn’t change his character. But your mother…” Sydney is unable to meet his eyes any longer and looks away, and he stops speaking. He comes over and kneels in front of her, and reaches up to gently turn her head so that she’s facing him once more. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you go through this alone when it’s so much worse than what I’ve been going through.” Sydney feels the tears welling up in her eyes, and she doesn’t even attempt to stop them from sliding down her face. “Thank you,” she says, “but I know that you can never forget how my family is involved in your dad’s death.” She looks away from him. “I know we can never have a future together.” Saying the words out loud isn’t as painful as she thought, but then they’re just words. She accepted this inevitability days ago. Michael hasn’t said anything in response to her words, and Sydney takes it as a confirmation. “Syd,” he says at last, “you’re wrong. No, I can never forgot how your mother was involved in my dad’s death. But that’s her, Syd, not you. I don’t blame you. I love you.” Sydney looks at him in disbelief. She begins to shake her head, not trusting that he can really feel this way. “Michael, you may think you feel that way now, but this is going to eat away at you. The resentment…” “Syd,” Michael says, silencing her by brushing his thumb across her lips. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years. And I know that you love me too. Yes, this whole thing is really screwed up, but we’ll get through it together. I can’t think of any other way to get through it, can you?” Sydney is silent for a moment, trying to think of something to dissuade him. She is afraid to let herself be loved by this man, only for everything to fall apart because of the inevitable formation of this chasm between them. But as she looks into his face, she understands that although he shares her fears and misgivings, his love for her is more powerful than the forces that would keep them apart. And she knows that he’s right. There is no other way to get through this than by being by his side. She slowly shakes her head. “Syd…” he says before raising up on his knees and kissing her fiercely. She returns his kiss, matching his intensity. She feels truly awake for the first time since she learned the truth about her mother. They pull apart and look at each other, forehead to forehead, and a silent communication passes between them. This isn’t going to be easy. But then their relationship never has been easy. She’s had him ripped from her life before, and she knows that she can’t handle that again. She needs him, like she needs her lungs or her veins. Like she needs her heart. The look in his eyes reveals that he feels the same way. END Epilogue
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