BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Author’s notes: This story has nothing to do with ‘Collateral Damage’ but it’s another Sydney/Irina story; apparently, I can’t write anything else. Set right after the episode 2x13, ‘Phase one’, in which SD-6 is taken down.

Summary: One of Sydney’s missions goes bad and she turns up with amnesia. Irina is the only one, who can help her recover her memories, but she’s stuck in a CIA cell and Jack won’t listen to her.



Prologue

“Jack I can help!”

“Unless you have a degree in medicine that I didn’t know about, you are not getting out of this cell. There is nothing you can do. This is not about Rambaldi, this is about science.”

Of course, it was about Rambaldi. Wasn’t it always? However, as much as she wanted to help Sydney, Irina couldn’t tell Jack what she knew.

“I’m her mother,” she protested.

“And she doesn’t remember you.”

She could still picture Sydney’s relieved expression in her head, when her daughter had come to tell her that they destroyed SD-6. She felt something was wrong though, Sydney should be ecstatic and she was not. Irina had called her on it and Sydney grimly explained Sloane had disappeared. It was one week ago, and so much had changed in seven days.



First, four days ago, a man had come to talk to her, introducing himself as ‘Agent Weiss’. The CIA knew she would not talk to anyone other than Sydney or Jack so he was not surprised when she ignored him. This was until he told her that he was a friend of Sydney’s and that something had gone terribly wrong on her last mission.
He seemed distraught, and the fact that neither Jack nor Vaughn had taken the time to come down and talk to her personally spoke volumes.

The young man had calmly, but not without emotion, informed her that Sydney’s team had been killed, execution style, and that she was reported MIA, Missing in Action. Three little words to say so many things. She had been captured and was probably being currently tortured for information.

Most operatives reported MIA were not expected to surface ever again after four weeks in absentia. Presumed dead, a shiny, tiny star on a wall was their epitaph.

Agent Weiss left after assuring her that everybody at the CIA was looking for her and that she would be informed as soon as her daughter resurfaced. The man had acknowledged Sydney’s connection to her and it warmed her heart to hear Sydney mentioned as ‘your daughter’.

Now, Jack had just announced to her something even more terrible and was ignoring her pleas to help.

Sydney had been found.

She had amnesia and couldn’t remember a thing.


TBC

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Author’s notes: Thanks to Lenafan, my beta reader, for sticking with me and for doing yet again a wonderful job.



Chapter 1: The cucumber dilemma

Sydney was standing in front of her kitchen counter, a sharp knife in hand, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. She was cooking tonight, and was currently making a salad. Her mission, chop up vegetables without cutting her own hand off in the process. The cucumber seemed to be taunting her, daring her to try to cut it to pieces.

Sydney was clumsy with anything sharp or pointy. Proof was she had accidentally cut herself the day before with a scissor. She sighed, shaking her head. ‘I’m definitely going insane’, she thought.

Francie was at the restaurant and wouldn’t be back for dinner. It was just Will and her. The young man was currently taking a shower and had accepted her offer to cook. He had been surprised at first, and she had explained that she never cooked, too busy with work. She smiled a fake smile. She hated it when people compared her to…her…before. It was so awkward, like being spoken as someone she didn’t know, or what she was supposed to be, or what they expected her to be.

It had been six weeks since she was back in her house. During her stay in the hospital, she had been introduced to so many people, people that were part of her life, they said. First, there was her father, whom she had a hard time believing was who he said he was. She saw him as a distant, serious looking grey haired man and nothing more. He hadn’t smiled once at her during his visits. He only talked about ‘business’; he wanted to know if she remembered anything. He had asked that question many times, and each time, she had told him ‘no’. She hadn’t been outwardly warm either, thus maybe discouraging him from reaching out.

She had then met her boss, a gruff, bald man, and a few colleagues. There was the nice, stuttering genius who seemed to love her a lot. There was the big, always smiling man. He was her favourite, he always cracked jokes and never expected anything of her. A black, serious looking man had come just once. He seemed to hesitate when he saw her, and just said he was glad she was back before he left. Her ‘father’ had explained to her that they were long time friends but that something had happened between them. She had let it go.

The icing on the cake was that green-eyed handsome Michael Vaughn. He introduced himself as her colleague and friend. Later he told her they were closer when they were eventually left alone in the room. She had been shocked. She had felt nothing special about him when he first came in. Just as she felt nothing toward her friends or even her father.

She was empty and she hated that feeling. She avoided mixing with all those people, except for Will and Francie. They lived with her so she didn’t really have a choice. She wanted to be left alone but not to the point of being rude.



Sighing again, she lifted the knife, ready to cut off the smirking cucumber’s head and then the rest of its body. “You can mock me all you want, but you’re going down, Buddy.” The knife still stood in mid air when it should have beheaded the green vegetable. Someone had seized her wrist from behind, the other hand going to her mouth, muffling her surprised scream at being pulled back hard against someone’s body.

“Shhh. Easy. Drop the knife,” ordered a feminine voice. Sydney didn’t hear her, overcome with fear. “Drop the knife,” repeated the woman, squeezing Sydney’s wrist tighter to emphasize her point. Irina could have easily disarmed Sydney by bringing down the wrist she was holding against the counter but it would have been painful. She did not wish to harm her daughter and scare her even more than she was.

Finally, Irina’s patience paid off and the young woman opened her hand to drop the butcher knife. “Good girl,” whispered Irina in a tone she wanted to be reassuring. She could actually feel her daughter shake in her grip and felt a pang of guilt for putting her through this. It was not as if she was holding her at gunpoint or at knifepoint either. She didn’t need that to coerce her daughter into obeying her. She felt confident she was strong enough to overpower Sydney if need be. No need to spook her by flashing a deadly weapon under her nose.

“Come,” she said, not relinquishing her hold on her daughter just yet. Sydney might not remember her training but she was a scared woman and it made her potentially dangerous. Not that she could beat her mother, even though they were in equal physical shape. From her point of view, the worst Sydney could try to do was pull on Irina’s hair or throw things at her, but she could try to escape, thus forcing Irina to use physical force on her, and possibly hurt her inadvertently. Sydney could also alert her friend or the agents supposedly protecting her, thus compromising Irina’s lead on the CIA.

She dragged her to the bedroom’s sliding window, from where she had first come in, and led her to the far end of the garden. Drawing her weapon but careful not to point it at Sydney, she directed her toward the way she had come in.

“Go over the wall.” Thankfully, Sydney obeyed without protest and dropped somewhat gracelessly on the other side of the wall. Irina’s car was where she had left it, parked a few houses away not to arise suspicions. She gently, but firmly, took hold of Sydney’s arm to cut off any ideas of escape she might have and led her to the blue BMW. “Get in,” she instructed, opening the passenger side door. Again, Sydney complained wordlessly though slowly.

She struggled with her seatbelt so Irina buckled it for her. She was sure under other conditions Sydney could have done it eyes closed while making a 180°C U turn 50 kilometres above the speed limit in town. She was convinced this whole ‘amnesia’ condition was not faked on her daughter’s part though. She had observed her for a few minutes before acting. Sydney hadn’t heard her sneak up behind her, she had seemed to have difficulty handling a knife and had clumsily escalated the wall in her backyard. Above all, she didn’t seem to have recognised Irina and such fear couldn’t be faked, however of a good actress Sydney was.

Irina took her position in the driver seat, and they were three blocks away from the house within a minute.

More relaxed, the older woman took a real look at her child. Sydney had slid in her seat as far away from Irina as possible. There were tears in her eyes and she was sniffling, probably trying not to burst into tears. Seeing her so frightened because of her tore Irina’s heart apart. She felt the need to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay, as she did when Sydney was little.

Her hesitation at speaking up vanished when her eyes crossed Sydney’s and her daughter hit the door in a reflex to get away from Irina. Whatever Irina did, the situation could not possibly get worse.

“There’s no need to be afraid of me you know,” she reached out to tuck an errant strand of wild hair. Sydney hunched her shoulder in an attempt to get away from the physical contact. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you,” she whispered, trailing her hand on her daughter’s smooth jaw. She tried to seek Sydney’s eyes but the young woman kept her glance down. She was clutching her hands and Irina feared she might draw blood.

She decided to let her be for the moment. Any physical contact or attempt at communication would only further frighten her. Maybe with some quiet time Sydney would collect herself and ease up a little.

It was odd to refer to her passenger as ‘Sydney’. She felt more like a stranger than anything else. Her Sydney would have fought back. She would have asked what Irina wanted with her and where they were going. The ‘new Sydney’ was just a thirty-year old woman who had been dumped in a world she didn’t understand. God knows what the CIA and her father told her exactly.

Truth was, Irina could help her. She could bring the old Sydney back. She just wished they didn’t have to go through that to achieve her goal. If only Jack had let her help…but it was too late for regrets now.

The CIA had sent her on a mission to Panama, supposed to result in Sloane’s capture. Instead, she had taken the opportunity to escape with him and had given him the Rambaldi manuscript as per their agreement. She had left the scene with him and Sark as planned, but had split up with them at the airport. As tempting as his offer of furthering their partnership sounded, she had other things to do at the time. Things that went against Sloane’s plans, and it started with her daughter. She had to get to Sydney and give her her memory back. She would deal with the consequences of her actions, regarding both Sloane and the CIA, later.



Will Tippin eventually left the bathroom, dressed in his night attire, running shorts and white tee. Sydney and he had settled on a slumber party of sorts: dinner, movies, and junk food while dressed in comfortable clothing. Francie would join them later; she had to be at her restaurant to greet her customers. Sydney was supposed to be next to hit the shower but Will couldn’t find her anywhere. The kitchen was in order but the meal didn’t seem ready. A bunch of carrots, tomatoes and a funny looking cucumber were lying on the counter, waiting to be chopped.

A few minutes later, he determined that Sydney was nowhere in the house or outside and that none of her other clothes or purse were missing.

He called Jack Bristow.



“We’re here,” announced Irina as she opened Sydney’s door. The car was parked in a private hangar of LAX airport. She was trying her hardest to appear friendly instead of threatening but Sydney seemed to think her the latter. “Come with me,” Irina said, placing her hand on Sydney’s back, gently pushing her toward her awaiting jet.

Inside, Sydney looked around as if she had never seen such plane. Irina was sad. Each of her daughter’s actions reminded her that Sydney had no memories left at all. After her escape, Irina had obtained the CIA files on the botched mission. Sydney had been found wandering the streets of Florence, Italy.

The examinations she underwent at the hospital showed several bruises and needle tracks on her body. She also had a mild concussion from being hit over the head with what must have been the butt of a gun. The doctors’ theory was that her amnesia was due to that concussion and her captors had released her because she honestly could give them nothing.

Irina knew better. At least one of the needle marks Sydney bore was due to an injection of a certain green fluid. Used on the Passenger, said fluid caused the subject to see things. Used on someone who was not the Passenger, the fluid was harmless. Used on the Chosen One, the fluid would wipe clean her memory, thus placing her in a state of ‘blissful ignorance’, as explained in one of Rambaldi’s manuscripts.

No amount of regression therapy or electroshocks would give Sydney back her memories. Even small talk with friends and former acquaintances would not spark the tiniest bit of memory. The CIA thought Sydney’s condition a classical amnesia but it was not, and Irina could not tell them that. It would mean revealing the existence of the Rambaldi fluid and its use. It would expose the Passenger and it was the last thing Irina wanted.

Only she could help Sydney and do so without jeopardizing the Passenger’s safety. She wished there was another way but there wasn’t.

“Buckle your seatbelt,” ordered Irina as she steered Sydney toward a seat and took the one facing it. The take off was smooth and quick. Irina kept her eyes trained on Sydney, hoping she would look at her, but to no avail. Sydney seemed entirely focused on the lights of the city, slowly getting harder and harder to spot. Irina remembered that technically, it was the first time Sydney took a plane. She sighed inwardly and watched the city move away as well.



“Don’t you want to know where we are going, or why I took you?” Asked Irina, one hour into the flight. Sydney ignored her but the older woman saw her twitch at the sudden break in the silence they had settled in. “Sydney?” Insisted Irina as she bent forward to take Sydney’s hands into her own and separate them. Her daughter looked at her for a split second and then to their hands clasped and back to her again, never looking at her in the eyes. She was dying to pull away but didn’t dare to, Irina could tell. She sighed, hurt by her child’s fear of her, though she knew it was not her fault.

Not letting go, but instead gently massaging her hands to ease the tension in them, she spoke, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I didn’t mean to.” It was true, she had kept reminding herself that she was kidnapping a young woman, not a fully trained and deadly CIA agent. She had proceeded as patiently and gently as she could under the circumstances. She had acted without using physical force, but Sydney seemed afraid nonetheless.

“You haven’t said a word to me since we left your house,” she went on, desperate for some semblance of acknowledgement other than cold palms trembling in her hands. “Do you know who I am?” She suddenly asked, pushed by an intuition of some sort. Intuition confirmed when Sydney slowly nodded her head. “And who am I?” She asked, voice still soft, as if talking to a frightened child.

“Irina…Derevko,” replied Sydney, still avoiding eye contact.

“And what else do you know about me?”

Sydney shrugged, making Irina smile. She had never seen Sydney shrug. It was so typical of teenagers to shrug in response to every question. It was oddly comforting to see her thirty-year old daughter shrug at her.

“Does that mean ‘nothing’ or ‘I don’t want to tell’?” She probed, not about to let go of the only link she had. Again, she received a shrug in answer. She was not amused anymore, but she went on, as calmly as before. “Who told you my name?”

“My father.” The words felt foreign in Sydney’s mouth. At first, she called him ‘Mr. Bristow’ when he visited her in the hospital. Later, when she had been told who he was, she had kept calling him ‘Sir’. One day, when she was more aware of her surroundings than before, she had spotted the stab of pain in his eyes. She had started calling him ‘Jack’ but the pain in his eyes had kept coming back, just less stronger than when she called him ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Bristow’. She couldn’t call him ‘Dad’, or even ‘Father’. The second was actually worse than anything was.

“Of course, it was Jack,” muttered Irina in realisation. He had probably told Sydney how horrible Irina was and it unnerved her. Surely, the truth about Irina was not sweet and fluffy but she would never hurt her own child and Jack knew that. He had to tell Sydney about Irina in case she tried to contact her daughter after escaping. Smart man. By alienating Irina to Sydney, he was making sure she would not let herself be approached by her mother. Jack probably didn’t tell her who Irina Derevko really was in relation to her though.

She felt hate for her husband then. It was cruel to scare Sydney about Irina as much as it was cruel to scare a child about the monster under the bed. That was low, even for him. She was sometimes amazed at the lengths her husband would go to for the sole purpose of driving her away from Sydney. First, there was the staged explosion in Madagascar, and now this.

“Please?”

Irina’s focus shifted back to Sydney, who had tears running down her cheeks and was desperately trying to free her hands from Irina’s hold. The woman realised she had been viciously gripping her daughter’s hands at the mention of Jack. She released them immediately, a horrified look on her face. She had done it again. She had hurt her daughter without even realising it. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” her mouth moved on its own, forming a sincere apology. Sydney didn’t reply. Using a different tack, Irina tried to pick up the conversation where they left off; hoping Sydney would reveal what she knew exactly. “I bet Jack told you I had done bad things, didn’t he?”

Sydney nodded, puzzled at the casual attitude the woman had when evoking her crimes. The woman quirked her eyebrows, as if to say ‘I’m listening, what did he say?’ Sydney didn’t see the point in telling her and voice her thoughts. “Why do you insist I tell you what you did?”

Irina smirked, finding a streak of the stubborn daughter she knew. “Because I don’t think he told you everything.

“There’s more?” Yelped Sydney sincerely horrified at the prospect of learning more about her kidnapper’s accomplishments.

“Not in the way you think. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, in time, but first, I need you to tell me exactly what he told you about me.”

Sydney nodded, suddenly curious. “He told me you recently escaped from jail and that you might come after me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Asked Sydney with such a sincere bemused look that Irina would have almost laughed.

“Why would I come after you?” She asked instead, practical.

“To hurt me,” replied Sydney matter-of-factly, as if the answer was obvious.

“Me, hurting you? Why would I do that?” She asked again, both horrified and furious at Jack’s way of depicting her as an evil b*tch. She tried to show a friendly, wondering smile, but inside, she was boiling, wishing she could kill something, or Jack.

“To get to him, because you hate him.”

Irina chuckled, and regretted it immediately as it startled Sydney and turned her back into the quivering woman Irina had met earlier. True, Jack hated her, and the feeling was reciprocated.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you. It’s just…Jack is so…full of himself.” Sydney was listening to her but didn’t reply. Irina had to start everything again. “I told you, I would never hurt you. I can’t.” She remained evasive, hoping to spark curiosity in Sydney and prompt some words, a question, out of her. No such luck. “We’ve been together for like, three, four hours? Did I hurt you? Do I seem like the person Jack said I was?”

Sydney shrugged, back to clutching her hands together. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I mean…I’m not bleeding or anything.”

Irina nodded. It was not the answer she had hoped for but it was better than no answer at all. At least Sydney was talking again. “You’re safe with me, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you,” she stressed the last part.

“Then what do you want with me?”

Irina drew in a breath. “It’s a long and complicated story. Do you want something to eat or drink before we start? I recall witnessing a confrontation between yourself and your dinner earlier, a cucumber I think?”

The joke made its magic and Sydney smiled. A true, Sydney Bristow-like smile. “Yeah I’m kind of hungry. I can’t pick up anything sharp without cutting myself. I guess I’m clumsy.” She lifted her hand in front of her face, examining the band-aid on her index finger.

Irina smiled too; the idea of Sydney being clumsy with a knife was just hilarious. In their family, the use of knives was some sort of tradition, like learning how to drive. Her father was a butcher, prompting her older sister‘s choice of career, Elena, who had become a surgeon. Katya and she favoured knives in their torture session and in their business dealings in general because of their father’s profession. Irina didn’t know if Sydney had a fetish for knives also, before the amnesia. She would have to ask her once Sydney recovered her memory.

Irina put two bottles of water and a packet of Oreos on the table between herself and Sydney. She watched as Sydney picked up a biscuit and eyed it warily.

“What’s wrong, I thought you loved Oreos?”

Sydney took her eyes away from the biscuit to look at the woman facing her, a frown on her face. “What? How do you know what I like and don’t like when I myself don’t?”


TBC

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Chapter 2: It’s personal

Irina was about to reply but shut her mouth when she realised she didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m your mother’ just wouldn’t do. It would send Sydney running the other way. No one could take well such news. She needed a plan of action. She needed to start from the beginning. That was a good plan.

“I can help you recover your memory.”

Sydney looked at her, the biscuits dangling between her fingers, mouth slightly open. “You a doctor?” She asked, sceptical.

Irina wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the question but held off, recalling Sydney’s startled reaction a few minutes before. “No. But your amnesia is not a medical condition.”

“It’s not?”

“No and I think I can fix it. That’s why I took you. I tried to tell your father but he wouldn’t listen. You were right when you said he hated me.”

Sydney nodded mutely. “Don’t take it wrong but…I don’t believe a thing of what you said. Except for the hating part. I saw lots of doctors, they ran tests, cat scans…I have pills to take and stuff…”

“And yet it’s been six weeks and you still can’t remember a thing, not even the slightest information about yourself,” interrupted Irina, not at all thrown back by the rebuff.

“So? It takes time,” stubbornly contradicted Sydney.

“Fine, believe what you want, but at least let me finish my story.”

Sydney settled back in her seat, the Oreo lying on the table, forgotten. She felt uneasy toward the woman. Sometimes she was all smiles and gentle, other times something else crept in beside the warm and friendly surface. It was as if she was trying to put on a nice appearance for Sydney’s benefit, but sometimes it felt natural. Creepy, really. “Whatever.” She shrugged again, and was practically certain she saw the older woman twitch in annoyance. She could not remember a thing about herself but she sure could read other people.

Irina noticed Sydney’s searching glare. She was being analysed from head to toe but didn’t mind. It was actually quite entertaining to see Sydney trying to read her, see what was underneath the surface.

She needed to screen what to tell or not to tell Sydney about the ‘truth’ she had intended to give her. She could not mention Rambaldi. It was common knowledge Sydney hated the man for all she had been put through because of him. Talking about him to the Sydney who was facing her would either send her away screaming or make her roll on the floor laughing about Irina believing the old crackpot. Rambaldi was out then.

“You were infected with a substance that wiped clean the part of your brain that stores memory. Science can’t help understand what that substance was, how it affected you, and let alone find a cure to it.”

This left Sydney speechless. “I don’t get it. Even if it’s true, how did I get infected?”

“What did your father tell you about your…profession?”

Sydney hesitated but guessed Irina would not ask the question if she did not already knew the answer, as she had done until now. “I was a CIA agent.”

“Indeed. Prior to your amnesia, you were captured and held several days by unknown criminals. I think they injected you with the substance I mentioned.”

“Makes sense. Jack did say something about me missing for a few days. But why? Why would people want to erase someone’s memory?”

Irina chose her words carefully. Once ‘cured’, Sydney would still remember everything that had happened to her since she awoke in the hospital seven weeks ago. She would probably repeat everything she would learn from her mother to the CIA. It was a delicate question but Sydney didn’t need to know the specifics. Just enough to believe what she was being told. “I couldn’t get in touch with those people, so I can only make assumptions. I think your contamination was unintentional. They thought you were someone else, someone supposed to be able to handle the fluid.”

What she presented to Sydney as a theory was most likely what had happened. Sydney had been released not because she was useless to the people that had her, but because she was not who they had hoped she would be. They had understood that she was not the Passenger after injecting her with the Rambaldi fluid and had then correctly deduced from the effects the fluid had on her that she was instead the Chosen One. They could not kill the Chosen One or it would ruin Rambaldi’s prophecies so they had set her free and had started looking for the Passenger again.

“So you’re saying all this was a freak accident?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it,” replied Irina, glad Sydney didn’t seem to want to argue.

“It’s plausible I guess. And you’re saying you have the cure?”

“Not exactly. It’s a more complicated matter. Once we land, I’ll bring you to one of my facilities and have some tests run on you…”

Sydney looked at her sharply and tensed, voice quivering. “You want to use me like some lab rat?”

“No!” Hurriedly reassured Irina. “Nothing like that! I promise.” It didn’t seem to reassure Sydney one bit, so a few minutes later, her mother added some more information. “I don’t know much about the cure, only it’s a mix of several ingredients. The original fluid and your blood must be mixed for starters. After that, nobody knows what else is necessary yet. That’s why we need information, about you, on how the fluid affected you in the first place. Studying you will provide those missing information.” Before Sydney could argue that she was not a lab experiment, Irina reached out for her hands. “I will stay with you the whole time. I won’t let them do anything to hurt you. If you don’t like something, you will just tell me and we will talk about it and try to find a way around it. If it becomes painful, we can stop at anytime. You just say the word. There is no reason for you not to be able to live the way you are now.”

Sydney nodded at last, finding Irina’s conditions fair enough. Despite what the woman wanted her to believe though, Sydney had no choice. She had seen Irina take out her gun in the garden. The woman kidnapped her. She would make her do whatever she wanted, no matter how painful it would be.



A chauffeured Mercedes was waiting for them at whatever airport they had landed at. Irina asked Sydney to get in the backseat and climbed in after her. A black SUV full of what Sydney assumed were bodyguards followed them to a magnificent house a little off the city.

Irina showed Sydney to her room and told her to get comfortable. She explained they would start the tests in the morning and that Sydney should rest.



The next morning, a bleary-eyed Sydney made her way to the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee. She loved coffee. Her friends had told her she was a coffee addict but she had known the first time she had tasted it that she loved it. The first time since her loss of memory that is.

“Hi,” she mumbled, awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“Hello, take a seat,” greeted Irina, pointing to the kitchen’s counter on with two place settings. “Tea or coffee?” she asked, her knowledge of her daughter’s tastes of today limited. Knowing about the Oreos was one thing, but she didn’t know about ‘grown up things’ such as hot drinks. Sydney drank hot chocolate when she was six years old as coffee was not allowed.

“Coffee please.”

“Black, strong, no sugar?” Hazarded Irina, referring to the way she herself took her coffee.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Waffles, pancakes or French toasts?”

“Whatever you’re making will be fine. Orange juice?”

“Help yourself. It’s in there.” She pointed at the refrigerator.

“Got it. Want some too?” Sydney frowned, shocked by the easiness with which she had just asked the woman who had basically kidnapped her if she wanted some orange juice. But then again, as Irina had said, it’s not like she had hurt her or even threatened to hurt her. On the contrary, oddly enough she had been a rather comforting captor.

“Yes please. Here we go,” she added as she flipped a French toast on each of their plates.

“Can I ask you something,” Sydney blurted out before she could stop herself. Even though she didn’t feel her life was in danger with Irina, she was still worried about what the woman wanted with her. It was a little odd that a perfect stranger, a criminal, a terrorist even, had taken the risk to kidnap the daughter of a CIA agent only to help her. Sydney would have slapped herself for not realising it the previous day. Something was just wrong with this picture.

“Of course, go ahead,” prompted Irina, wondering if Sydney would finally pop the question.

“Why in hell would you take such risks to get to me only to help me when you said yourself you hate my father? I mean, what’s your interest in this, what do you get?”

Irina stopped chewing and swallowed directly. Finally. She hadn’t dared tell who she was to Sydney until now because she felt it had to come from Sydney. She would certainly not like the answer, not believe it, but there was more chance for Irina to convince her if she asked the question herself.

“I’m doing this because I have a personal interest in you, you could say.”

“A personal interest? How so ?”

“There’s no easy way to say this, and I know you won’t believe me, but please, at least wait until I’m done before interrupting me, alright?”

“Yeah,” groaned Sydney, unconsciously checking the possible exits from the kitchen. She had an uneasy feeling, as she knew Irina was about to pull some funny business. She would not just sit there and take it if she could do otherwise. The place was crawling with bodyguards but it was worth a shot.

“No need to get all jumpy Sydney.”

The young woman blushed, feeling as if Irina could read her every thought. “Whatever. Just say it.”

Irina frowned. Had Sydney not believed her in the plane? She thought she had gotten through to her but apparently, Jack’s stories were well embedded in her daughter’s head. Knowing she thought so little of her even though she didn’t know her stung but Irina could live with it. However, she would not let Sydney believe one more second she was about to do unspeakable things to her

“That’s enough!” She scolded, slamming her palm on the counter, causing Sydney to lift her eyes at her in shock. “You have to see past what your father told you about me. I am tired of hearing you saying I am a horrible, unfeeling woman!”

“I didn’t…” meekly protested Sydney, a little taken back by the woman’s vehemence.

“Yes you did, silly girl. I’m doing everything I can to help you and you keep throwing it back in my face without knowing the facts.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Sydney, already retreating in embarrassment.

Irina had hoped for such reaction. She was tired of seeing Sydney as a shell of her former self. She wanted her daughter back. The one that could hate her and love her at the same time. The one she held at gunpoint and who still stood up to her. The one she had shot.

“Stop apologizing and quivering at everything I say,” scolded Irina coldly. Suddenly grabbing Sydney’s wrist, she dragged her toward the living room and through the French doors. “Come with me.” The kitchen was not a suitable place to talk. All those knifes lying around, the little space with only one exit…too much pressure.

Sydney did try to free her arm from Irina’s grasp, pleasing her mother without knowing it. Finally, Sydney was fighting back, getting angry. She let go once they were a fair distance away from the house. Sydney rubbed her sore wrist and looked around, noticing they were on a beach.

“I have a personal interest in you because I was married to your father.”

“What?” Sydney’s head snapped up in bewilderment. “The only woman my father ever married was my mother,” she snapped back, checking the detailed information about her family she had been given. She took advantage of being outside to take a few steps back from the woman.

“My point EXACTLY,” coolly replied Irina, watching for her daughter’s reaction. She had chosen not to say who she was directly. Sydney would be more incline to believe her if she was learning the facts herself.

Sydney was speechless. Then, after a few minutes, when the shock had passed, it hit her. How could she have not realised it? How could she have been so stupid as to not see? Her eyes had gone to her feet the second Irina’s words had sunk in. She shook her head from side to side. Slowly. Once. Twice. It didn’t make any sense but it did so much at the same time.

Turning, she started running. Away from the woman, the house, her mother. Her everything.

Irina saw her before Sydney probably knew what she would do. She let her take off. There was nothing for miles around. Sydney was not trying to ‘escape’ per se. All she was trying to do was escape her mother, but not in the physical sense of the word.

They needed to begin the tests soon but Irina decided to give Sydney some time and space. A guard walked to her, waiting for her orders. “Keep an eye on her, but stay away. Don’t disturb her; don’t let her see you. Just make sure she doesn’t get lost in the forest.”

The man nodded and scurried off to catch up with Sydney.


TBC

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Chapter 3: Truth and lies

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

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

“She’s dead,” said Sydney hollowly.

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

“I don’t understand. Did he lie to me?”

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

“Some details? Care to elaborate?”

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

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

“You’re not stupid Sydney, why would you say that?”

“Because I didn’t know. It was right in front of me and I didn’t know. I should have seen it.”

“You were too busy being scared by your father’s fairytales.”

“I still should have seen it.”

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

“I don’t know. We kind of look like each other.”

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

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

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

“Hey, Irina? Can I call you that?”

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

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

“Sydney…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Omelette,” Irina replied, not daring to face her.

“Okay. Can I set the table?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No problem.”

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

“Sydney, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. Please. Just forget I ever asked,” pleaded Sydney.

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

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Her face darkened and she walked toward the doorway.

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

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

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

“Yeah, I think,” whispered Sydney, overwhelmed.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Can I go now?”

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

“Mom?”

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

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

“I would love that, sweetheart.”

Sydney nodded and smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night.”



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We weren’t very close at first. I didn’t tell you right away why I had shot you…”

“Why not?” Interrupted Sydney, definitely not shy anymore.

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“But I did just now,” protested Sydney, puzzled.

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

“Oh. So we were like…enemies?”

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

“It doesn’t seem to stop you now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


TBC

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Author’s notes: I added a paragraph right before posting so I didn’t ask Lenafan to correct it in order to not delay the posting. So if you find any mistake, it’s my fault entirely.



Chapter 4: Ready?

Sydney had been in Irina’s care for one week. The approximate delay the woman had given her people to find a cure had expired and yet Sydney hadn’t been back to the lab for days. She decided to drop by the facility to check on things. The building was situated right beside the house and sheltered two dozen scientists, doctors and nurses.

Inside, instead of the bubbling activity she expected, she only found a young lab assistant doing dishes.

“Excuse me, where is everyone?” She asked him.

“They’re gone lady. They left three days ago.”

“Why did they leave? Weren’t they working on something?”

“Yeah but they’re done. Those guys are good!”

Sydney left there in shock. The cure was ready and her mother had lied to her. She had to get out of here.



“Let go damn it!” Yelled Sydney to the man who was dragging her toward the house.

He didn’t reply anything and they arrived at Irina’s study. He knocked and came in, dragging Sydney with her.

“What is going on?” Asked Irina, getting up from behind her desk.

“I found her snooping around the cars, she wanted to escape.” He still hadn’t let go of her arm. That would bruise.

“Escape? Sydney if you want to go, just ask. You’re not a prisoner here, you’re a guest.”

“Yeah right, tell that to your watchdog,” she spat venomously.

“Let go Martial, that’s unnecessary. Leave us now.”

Reluctantly, the big man left the study and closed the door behind him. No doubt he was standing on the other side, ready to pounce on Sydney once again.

“I want to leave and I want to leave now!” Declared Sydney, daggers flying from her eyes.

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s been one week. You had the cure for days and didn’t tell me!”

“Sydney…”

“You lied to me, you never had any intention of helping me!”

“It’s not what you think Sydney!”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it? Come on, tell me, tell me another one of your lies!”

“I wanted to spend a few more days with you, that’s all…I’m sorry I lied to you, that was wrong and selfish of me, but I just wanted a few more days with my daughter.” Everyday they shared breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Irina couldn’t really ask Sydney anything about herself as she didn’t remember, and Sydney had sensed that Irina was reluctant to bond with her, for reasons she did not disclose. So they would only make small talk, about the food, the weather, the house, the beach…but those were moments Irina treasured.

Sydney looked at her, stunned. Could it be the truth? Yes. The woman was so twisted, that was quite possible.

Irina went on, “before you got amnesia, you and I weren’t on the best of terms. As soon as you get your memory back I’ll lose you.” She sighed. “You will go back to hating me with all your heart and I couldn’t stand that. I knew I would have to, eventually, but I…couldn’t let go just yet. I’m sorry I was unfair to you.”

She turned toward her safe and reached inside for a bottle full of brownish liquid. “Here it is. If you would follow me we can proceed right away.” She made her way to the door, Sydney in tow.



Neither Sydney nor Irina spoke a word until they reached the laboratory.

A man in a white coat joined them. Sydney recognised him as the leader of the team of doctors that had performed tests on her. Dr Kruger, her mother had called him.

“Miss Derevko, Miss Bristow,” he greeted, dipping his head.

“Doctor,” greeted Irina back, handing him the bottle taken from her safe. Sydney merely nodded in his direction and carefully observed him.

“Follow me please.” He led them to the same area Sydney had occupied during her testing sessions. It hadn’t been as bad as she had first expected. They had drawn some blood, took some saliva and urine. Annoying but not painful. Until they had asked for a sample of bone marrow. That had hurt like hell, even though she was anaesthetized at the time. She had been told parts of the cure were actually in herself and that the scientists were trying to figure out what it was exactly, hence the repetitive tests. “Make yourself comfortable and we can start,” the doctor told Sydney, smiling one of those typical doctor’s fake smiles that were supposed to be reassuring.

She settled on the dentist-type chair and yelped in protest when he reached for her wrist to put her in restraints. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” She asked outraged.

“Uh…” He looked from Sydney to Irina and back, uncertainty written all over his face. “I thought you had been told of the eventual effects of what we’re about to inject you with…Miss Derevko?”

“My apologies Doctor, I’m afraid we’ve been rushing this. I thought she may have questions for you and that you would be best suited to explain to her what we already discussed.”

“What is going on?” interrupted Sydney, standing on the other side of the chair.

“Hum…we couldn’t test the serum, obviously, so we are not sure how your body will react to it. What we do know is that some of its components may cause a seizure. Nothing serious I assure you, but we don’t want you accidentally hurting yourself if that happens.”

Sydney took a deep breath, processing the information.

“You can still forget about the cure and go back to Los Angeles to your current way of life, Sydney. There’s no obligation of doing anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.” Irina too was not so sure using the cure was a good idea. Too many unknown factors for her liking.

“No. I want to do it; I need to do it. You were right, I can’t live my life like this. The people who are supposed to be my friends, my colleagues, my family, they don’t recognize me. It’s as if I have no one, not even myself. I can’t stand it anymore, this…emptiness. Whatever it takes to get back the way I was, no matter how screwed it was I don’t care. Let’s do this.”

The doctor dipped his head in appreciation and secured her hands and feet with the leather restraints hooked on the chair device. Sydney concentrated on breathing rhythmically through her nose, trying to ignore the fact that she was tied down and very vulnerable.

Irina, sensing her daughter’s distress, took hold of her hand and squeezed. “Try to relax. You are going to be just fine and as soon as we are sure you are all right I’ll release you and you can go home. You have my word Sydney.” She was sincere and tried to convey it but doubted Sydney believed her fully.

Sydney heard her mother’s comforting words but couldn’t find peace in them. Her eyes darted back and forth, going from the doctor to nurse, trying to read what they were thinking. In a matter of minutes, they had hooked her to a cardiac monitor, brought in a respirator and an array of other machines. “Just in case,” said the doctor. She had watched, helpless, as electrodes were placed on her forehead and her chest. Her mother hadn’t moved, still holding her hand tightly, massaging it as she had done on the plane.

Sydney squeezed back in thanks. Irina stopped her rubbing for a second, surprised and touched by the gesture. Her daughter didn’t look at her, but Irina felt closer to Sydney than ever before. She went back to running circles in Sydney’s palm, a soothing motion her own mother had showed her, decades ago.

“All set,” announced the nurse controlling all the blipping machines.

The doctor turned around to face Sydney and Irina, a syringe and the bottle of liquid in hand. “Ready?” He asked Sydney kindly.

“I guess,” she replied, a knot in her throat making her voice hoarse.

He nodded and proceeded to fill the syringe with the appropriate amount of brownish solution. He went to stand beside Irina and tear off the patch on her left arm. It was designed to make the patient’s veins pop out, making them easier to be injected. The needle entered her skin and Sydney closed her eyes, clenching her teeth.

In her head, there was nothing. Nothing but excruciating pain.



The first thing Sydney noticed when she awoke was that she was still strapped down to the dentist-type chair. Only a vague memory of pain existed in her head. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she had been injected with the green stuff but her throat felt oddly different. Raw, as if she had been screaming her head off for the past six hours. She had no idea how close to the truth she was.

Where was she? She felt different. Everything around her felt different. The next thing she felt was a hand gripping hers. It was her mother’s hand. It came back to her then, the amnesia, Irina in her house, the tests, and the brownish remedy…

Her eyes popped open, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds until she felt her mother withdraw her hand and move away. She glanced at her then, and was greeted by the expressionless face of Irina Derevko, number six on the CIA most wanted list.

Irina had felt it the second Sydney had regained consciousness. Her posture, the stiffening of her muscles, the sharp look in her eyes, the hyper-awareness of her surroundings…everything screamed ‘CIA agent’. Sydney was back. Irina had no further business staying here. Taking a few steps back, she watched, somewhat saddened, as Sydney visibly regained full control of her thoughts.

The doctor moved forward, penlight in hand. He checked Sydney’s pupils and nodded approvingly to himself. The nurse seemed satisfied with the readings on her screens and nodded to the doctor. “Miss Bristow?”

“I’m fine,” mumbled Sydney, anxiously glancing at her restraints. It was time to see if Irina would keep her promise. The doctor left her side and the nurse started taking off the electrodes and the blood-pressure clamp from her finger. She made no motion to free Sydney and left the room as soon as she was done with her work.

Sydney could still feel Irina’s strong presence in the room, but didn’t want to look her way to check. Two burly men dressed in black suits came forward. They wordlessly took off the leather bounds strapping her body to the chair and helped her stand.

They put her hands behind her back and cuffed her. “What…?” She started asking, worried and surprised.


TBC

I do like this story. More interaction between Sydney and her mother, but it would be difficult if they meet again when Sydney regains her memory.
B)
Love editing this too. :D

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Chapter 5: Q and A

“They are taking you back to Los Angeles as agreed,” interrupted Irina, businesslike, before leaving the room as well.

She was outside now, walking on the beach alone, not anxious to go back to her house and start packing. She was glad her daughter was cured, but it meant Sydney had to leave and it was hard.

In the beginning, it had been strange to see Sydney so different, so vulnerable, and fearful. She had wondered if her daughter would have turned out, as she was now if she had not been sucked in this business. This particular question would never be answered but she wasn’t sure she wanted it answered anyway. She liked Sydney the way she was before being infected with the Rambaldi fluid. No matter how messed up their relationship was, she admired her daughter for her principles, her strong will, her devotion and her stubbornness too.

That being said, Irina had gotten used to seeing Sydney everyday, eating, watching TV, reading…doing normal things. She had grown quite fond of their little talks too, the meaningless anecdotes and jokes they shared. It gave her a feeling of normalcy that was foreign to her. They had developed a relationship of sorts, which would have never happened under normal circumstances if her daughter had been herself.

Right now, she didn’t feel strong enough to deal with Sydney, with her questions and accusations that she was sure would come. She knew she had done the right thing and that’s all that mattered. Now the next right thing on the list was return Sydney to her home without further delay, as promised. She didn’t want Sydney to feel obligated to thank her or anything of the sort. She had to let go and move on, go back to her business and forget anything had ever happened. It was too painful already, to think ‘what if’. What if neither of them had chosen the life they led; what if Sydney could see past her mother’s flaws. What if…what if...



The man on Sydney’s right held a walkie-talkie to his mouth and asked for a car to come to the laboratory. They tied a black cloth around her eyes and she scolded at herself for not paying attention to the scenery on her way here. She didn’t resist and soon found herself in the same jet she had come in. The men took off her blindfold and handcuffs before leaving the plane.

She was still a little groggy from the shock of everything rushing back to her. The guards cuffing her had forced her spinning mind to concentrate on what was going on around her so she still had a lot to process. Her mother was with her less than one hour before she left. Her mother had come to her home in Los Angeles; had basically kidnapped her right under the CIA’s nose and had brought her to God knew where, only to give her back her memory.

She remembered everything from talking to her mother about the SD-6 takedown to waking up confused in Italy and then leading an awful ‘normal’ life for weeks until she was abducted. Then there was a week spent in her mother’s not so unpleasant company and now this: She was cured and apparently being sent back to where she belonged. Her mother had vanished without bothering to say goodbye, though she had been quite the perfect host, if not the ‘perfect mother’ during their time together.

That was something she was not used to seeing everyday. Irina had been very pleasant and accommodating to her. Kind and gentle, even when she had pulled her out of her house. She had a whole seven days to think back on and analyse now. She had learned so much about her mother, and yet so little. It was as if she didn’t want Sydney to know too much.

Sydney guessed playtime was over and now that her mission accomplished, Irina wanted nothing more to do with her.

A man in a pilot’s uniform poked his head out of the cockpit and glanced nervously at her, as if assessing if she would jump on him or not. She merely glared back and he eventually scurried outside the cockpit long enough to close the door.

She never moved from her seat. She didn’t even think of trying to determine which airport they were taking off from and it was useless anyway. That kind of Jet could take off from any kind of road as long as it was long enough. She didn’t have the heart to try and act like an agent. Her mother would probably never again set foot back in the house anyway.



An unknown number of hours later, Sydney awoke from her slumber as she felt the plane’s wheels hit the runaway. The cheerful voice of the pilot came over the speaker. “Welcome to LAX, it is 6 o’clock in the morning local time. The temperature outside is 68 degrees Fahrenheit.” Apparently, the fact that he was locked away behind a two-inch steel door had rendered him more talkative than before. “You can open the door by pulling on the red lever as indicated on the door. A cab is waiting for you beside the plane and has already been paid for.”

Sydney made her way to the door and sure enough, she spotted a yellow cab approaching the jet. She made her way down the steps and smiled tiredly at the driver who greeted her. The forty-something man was awfully chatty, probably exited by the amount of money he had been given for such a basic course. Sydney ignored him and focused on the scenery outside. It felt good to be home.



It was still early so Will and Francie were probably not up yet. Sydney didn’t want to wake them by ringing the doorbell so she located the key hidden under the dwarf’s foot and let herself in. Hungry, she decided to start breakfast for her friends, but first, she needed to call her father.

“Bristow,” he replied gruffly to his cell phone.

“Hey Dad, it’s me.”

There was a pause, Jack processing the fact that his missing daughter was calling him from her house, judging by the number showing on the screen, and that she had called him ‘Dad’ instead of Jack.

“Sydney! Where were you?”

The young woman smiled wryly. Count on her father to ask practical question instead of the classic ‘how are you doing?’ or even ‘are you okay’. Some things never change. “It’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it over the phone but I’m cured now. I remember everything.”

“I’m on my way, You’ll tell me over breakfast.”

He hung up before she could protest. So much for breakfast between friends. Sighing, she finally made her way to the kitchen and briefly wondered what had happened of the evil cucumber. She started by preparing the paste for the pancakes and a pile of them started to take shape.

Francie and Will walked in just as she was turning over her fifth pancake. The smell of cooking had stirred them from their sleep. Now fully alert they seemed surprised, but thrilled to see their lost friend standing in the kitchen, making pancakes as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey guys,” she said, offering them her fully dimpled Sydney Bristow smile.

“Sydney! My God we were so worried!” Cried Francie, launching herself in her friend’s arms. Neither Will nor she needed Sydney to tell them she was back to her normal self. She was oozing confidence and had that spark in her eyes. They made small talk while they set the table and she continued flipping pancakes. She avoided talking about how she had recovered her memories, knowing that she would have to repeat the process of explaining for her father’s benefit.



Everything was ready by the time Jack rang the bell. He made a cursory examination of his daughter as he stepped inside. He was not pleased when he found out her friends would stay for breakfast and that she would share her story with them.

“What happened?” He asked as soon as Sydney was seated.

She sighed. “Mom broke into the house through my bedroom window. I was in the kitchen. She grabbed me from behind and dragged me outside. Her car was parked in the alleyway behind the house.” Sydney knew her father would want the details of everything that happened.

“And you just went with her? You didn’t try to fight back?” Asked Jack, reproachful.

“I was scared, I wasn’t myself. I didn’t know what to do so I just obeyed!” She concluded lamely.

“Did she have a gun?”

“Yes. No, she only took it out when we were outside and never pointed it at me. I guess it was in case one of the agents assigned for my protection decided to actually do his job and check the perimeter.”

He nodded, filing away her every word for later analysis. “She never used any weapon of any sort to coerce you into doing her bidding?”

“No. She didn’t need to. She was stronger than me…I think I sort of panicked. I kept remembering stuff you told me about her, mainly that she could kill with her bare hands.”

“How was she acting?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m used to her ambushing me, talking to me and then knocking me out or shooting at me, but…she was different then.”

“How so?” Prompted Jack.

“She was friendly, I guess. You know, not violent or harsh or anything. I was holding a knife when she jumped me. She could have easily knocked it out of my hand but she chose to ask me politely to let go of it. She never actually threatened to do anything to me, she never snapped at me when we talked, she never hit me either…”

“So she acted like you weren’t a threat to her?”

“Yes, but it was more than that. She treated me fairly well. She was kind of…reassuring and so patient. She told me she didn’t want me to be scared. I think it pained her to see me like that.”

“Scared?”

“Scared and defenseless without any idea of who I was or who she was. It pained her that I saw her as a monster even though I didn’t know her. If only you had told me she was my mother, it would have made things easier for me. Don’t you think it was worth mentioning when you told me about the big bad Irina Derevko possibly coming after me? You practically gave me nightmares!”

“I didn’t want to further complicate the situation…”

“Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t want you to be tempted to go with her, is that so bad? She is a dangerous and manipulative woman even you can see that. But apparently it was useless to deprive you of that particular information, seeing how willing you were to come with her,” snapped Jack.

“How can you say this? I’ve never been so scared in my whole life Dad! Because of you!” It was true. Sydney vividly remembered practically wetting her pants when she realised she was faced with Irina Derevko. “She tried so hard to be nice to me, to get me to chill out, but I was intimidated anyway, because of everything I had heard about her. And even if I had been crazy enough to try anything, don’t you think she would have easily overpowered me and knocked me out and taken me away anyway!”

“You could have alerted Mr. Tippin,” retorted Jack, convinced Sydney could have defended herself better.

“She had a gun! She would have shot him or killed him on the spot!”

“But you didn’t know that at the time,” argued Jack.

“Why can’t you understand? I was not Sydney Bristow super-spy! I was Sydney Bristow average thirty year old woman being kidnapped by an ex KGB agent and wanted terrorist! I didn’t know how to fight back, I was so afraid I couldn’t even think straight!” Sydney was on the verge of crying. She had felt so helpless, surprised in her own kitchen, with Irina’s arm around her, dragging her away from her home. “After everything you had told me about her I was convinced she would hurt me or just kill me if I tried to resist her,” she added lamely, taking her head in her hands. She wasn’t so hungry anymore.

She felt Francie’s hand squeezing her shoulder in comfort. She snapped her head up, having forgotten about her friends. She was grateful for their presence and support. It felt so good to be able to share the job related aspects of her life with someone other than her colleagues.

“What happened after you were outside the house?” Resuming his line of questioning, not sparing a supportive look for his distraught daughter.

“We got in her car…”

“Model? Licence plate?”

“I was getting to that! It was a blue BMW but I don’t know which model or the licence plate. I didn’t pay much attention at the time. I was too busy being scared.” She paused, remembering Irina telling her the very same thing when Sydney had scolded herself for not seeing her resemblance to her abductor. “And before you give me a lecture on how an agent should act, let me remind you again that I had no memory of my training or anything else for that matter. The only thing I cared about at the time was my safety and to not piss her off. And while I’m at it, I can’t believe you told me such horrible things about her. You knew she would never hurt me and yet you let me believe she would kill me without the slightest hesitation. She was so angry when I told her about it…”

“You repeated our conversation?” Boomed Jack reddening.

“Well…yeah, kind of. She made me tell her everything I knew about her. I guess she was feeling the ground, to see if I knew I was her daughter. If you ask me, next time your paths cross, lay low because you’re in the doghouse where she’s concerned. But then again, I guess that’s nothing you’re not used to.”

His face turned back to the blank mask she was so used to see and he ignored her last barb. “Continue please.”

“We drove to LAX, a private hangar. There was a jet waiting. Hers I suppose. I didn’t see its ID either. I don’t know where we landed and I don’t know how much the flight lasted. The same goes for the ride home, but I think the pilot voluntarily took his time to fly back to LA. Anyway, we landed and drove to this big house on the beach. It was isolated but near enough to civilisation that you could see the village from the house.”

“So she is the one who gave you back your memory? Did she know how you lost them?”

“Yeah, she told me how it happened, and she also told me you knew she could help and you blew her off. I guess that explains why she escaped CIA custody.”

“Of course, I didn’t believe her. You had a medical condition and needed a treatment, not some Rambaldi belief of hers,” replied Jack, frustrated with his daughter’s blindness where her mother was concerned.

“Well you’re wrong. I was infected with what she referred to as ‘a solution that wiped clean my memory’. Now I know it’s the truth because I remembered that the guy that killed my team injected me with a green liquid. I heard them call it ‘the Rambaldi fluid’.”

“Rambaldi? Are you sure?”

Will and Francie exchanged a confused look, never having heard that name before, but they knew not to interrupt and continued to listen to the conversation going on. They were getting a glimpse at the crazy world of Sydney Bristow and it was not pretty.

“Certain.”

“Why? Why would someone want to erase your memory, with something of Rambaldi of all things?”

“That’s exactly what I asked her, minus the Rambaldi part, as I didn’t know about him at the time. She never actually mentioned Rambaldi, guess she didn’t want to spook me. She stayed rather vague about the whole thing.”

“She probably knew you would remember everything and repeat it to the CIA. She’s smart and didn’t give you much information.”

“Yeah, I guess it holds. She told me she had nothing to do with the people that infected me in the first place, so what I’m about to say is only her theory…”

“Or that’s what she want you to believe. Everything could have been an elaborated scheme to get to you,” cut off Jack.

Sydney rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Well, I did recover my memory because of her, didn’t I?” She snarled sarcastically, still upset that Jack had simply ignored her mother’s offer to help. It could have been all over much sooner and her mother would not be on the run, away from Sydney again.

He nodded curtly, admitting that it was not smart to interrupt someone during a debriefing. It made them lose their concentration, their train of thoughts and they might omit information. “Go ahead.”

“She told me the green fluid was supposed to be given to someone else, someone able to handle it. I was not that someone so instead of doing whatever it is supposed to be doing it erased my memory. She said she had the cure. Or that she could at least fabricate it. It was based on the greenish solution itself, some of my blood and other stuff that I don’t know about. It took a few days for her people to create it but in the end it worked and here I am.”

“She just let you go? Immediately after giving you the cure?”

“Yeah. I lost consciousness right after that doctor gave me the injection, but as soon as I woke up two of her bodyguards took me to the airport and put me in her jet. Before you ask, I was blindfolded and cuffed. I had no way of knowing where we were. She had even paid a cab to wait for me on the runaway and take me home.”

Jack nodded, listing the points he wanted to clarify. He caught Mr. Tippin and Miss Calfo exchange a look. He had almost forgotten about them. He was still annoyed at their presence but was thankful for their support to Sydney.

“Is there anything else you remember that could help us understand? Something she said maybe?”

“We actually didn’t spend much time together, beside sharing meals, and then we would only talk about random things. Oh, and she kept me company during the testing sessions also, but we didn’t talk then either. Our longest conversation was about why she had shot me, and it’s a little fuzzy because she got angry that I didn’t want to listen to her. In the end it was very similar to the one we had while she was in CIA custody though, now that I can actually remember having it.”

“And you never asked questions?”

“No. I mean, yes, a few, but nothing pertaining to Rambaldi. Nothing that would interest the CIA or at least, nothing we don’t already know. She gave me just enough information so I wouldn’t feel the need to ask questions. She told me she could cure me and give me back my memory. I didn’t care about details”

“You will have to come in to be officially debriefed and type your report. I’ll have a few more questions for you then.”

“Okay. Just let me grab a shower and I’ll be there. Two hours tops.”


TBC

Yes indeed, the Irina I know can do this...However, I think that Sydney being younger and in her right mind might give her a battle royal in the strength department. :rolleyes:

B)

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Chapter 6: Back on the job

A few weeks later, everything was back to normal. Normalcy had undergone a few changes during Sydney’s absence though. Obviously, Irina was not in CIA custody anymore and the CIA was looking for her, but most of all, Francie knew the truth about her friend’s job and they could talk about it. Jack had told her everything about the CIA and SD-6. There was no other way to explain Sydney’s sudden loss of memory.

Will Tippin had helped a lot, but it had warranted him Francie’s wrath for a few days. He had known all along and hadn’t told her. She had been jealous at first, she told Sydney, but then she had understood and accepted that things were what they were. Sydney was glad she didn’t have to lie anymore. It was so tiring and painful.



A briefing had been called in on this sunny Monday morning, exactly five weeks after Sydney’s return to Los Angeles. The CIA had made a breakthrough on Sydney’s loss of memory in Florence.

Echelon had intercepted a communication between two unknown parties. The trade involved a bottle of the Rambaldi fluid and a manuscript. The CIA wanted the fluid for obvious reasons, because it was related to their top agent’s kidnapping and loss of memory. The DSR had contacted the CIA about the manuscript, which was apparently involved in one of their project. The project turned out to be something much bigger.

Kendall was furious to learn that the DSR had acquired a Rambaldi prophecy months earlier without informing the CIA.

An analyst from the DSR was sent to the meeting to bring the agents up to speed about the information disclosed in the prophecy. According to him, it spoke briefly of ‘The Rambaldi fluid’ and of The Passenger but didn’t explain the relation between the two. It suggested a manuscript gave more details though, and the DSR hoped the one about to be sold was the one they were looking for.

Eventually, an irritated Kendall managed to make the man confess that the DSR knew more than they let on.

“Agent Bristow,” he addressed Sydney directly, “your report says that Irina Derevko told you the fluid was not meant for you and that it is why it made you lose your memory. She was right. Actually, the fluid is specifically meant for one person and one person only. The Passenger. Injected into The Chosen One, it, I quote, ‘places her in a state of blissful ignorance’...”

“Wait, so you knew, since the moment I came back from Florence, you knew what had caused my loss of memory? And you didn’t tell anybody at the CIA?”

“The DSR suspected the Rambaldi fluid had been employed on you, but we couldn’t be sure…”

“That’s bullsh*t!”

“We think you have been released because whoever injected you with the fluid knew that as The Chosen One, killing you would jeopardize Rambaldi’s endgame,” resumed the man, imperturbable.

“So why inject me in the first place if they knew I am The Chosen One?”

“Like us, they thought The Chosen One and The Passenger might be the same person. It was worth a try and couldn’t kill you, only erase your memory.”

“You son of a b*tch! You wanted to try the fluid on me too!” Sydney suddenly realised. If they had gotten their hands on the fluid, they would have taken her into custody to verify their insane theory, even while knowing what consequence it would have for her. The people that had taken her had only beat the DSR to the point.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that information, Agent Bristow, but now we know for certain you are not The Passenger. We need to find that person and the Rambaldi fluid to test it on whoever actually is The Passenger. Gentlemen, Miss, the DSR expects your complete cooperation on this. We’ll be waiting to hear from you, don’t fail.”



The new goal of the CIA was to find The Passenger and inject him or her with the Rambaldi fluid so the CIA, or the DSR, it was unclear, could recover yet another one of his artefacts before any other agency or faction did.

Their next mission would take Sydney, Vaughn, and Weiss to Agadir, Morocco. The interlocutors in the phone conversation that had started everything were Akmed Mazhar and McKennas Cole. The former had the bottle of Rambaldi fluid and Cole and his gang of merry sociopaths possessed the manuscript. The CIA wanted everything. The items and the men.



Akmed Mazhar and Cole were seated barefoot Indian style on the ground on opposite sides of a table. They were savouring hot mint tea accompanied with bread mixed with honey or peanut pasta. Such eating could take place at any hour of the day, no matter how hot the weather. It was a custom of many other Arabian countries beside Morocco and a sign of friendship. It would be unthinkable, because it would be offensive, to decline an invitation to drink tea. Even Cole gave into the tradition, at least if he wished to buy a batch of the Rambaldi fluid.

Vaughn sat at a Café in plain view of the meeting currently taking place inside the local man’s shop. Weiss was assuming the same tourist outfit as Vaughn and was seated at another coffee shop on the opposite side of Vaughn. They blended in perfectly in the thick crowd of tourists passing through the streets of Agadir. They were patiently waiting for the men to show each other’s merchandise to act.

Sydney was by herself, going with the flow of tourists. She was covering her partners’ back, trying to spot any ‘friend’ Cole or Akmed could have brought with them. So far, she had seen no one, but the tunics the men wore could easily hide an AK-47 or any other kind of weapon.

Taking a look around her, something caught her eye on the roof of a corner shop. She couldn’t see exactly what it was without bringing attention to her. She decided it was worth checking out.



A few minutes later, the eating ritual was finally over and the two men each put a suitcase on the table.

Sydney found a ladder going from the street to the roof of the building on which she saw what she suspected to be a sniper. She didn’t know whom he was covering though, and would have to approach with great caution. If she spooked him, the commotion would alert Cole and Akmed and they would run. The CIA mission would be a failure and Kendall would happily pin it on her.

Her comm link crackled as Vaughn talked to her, informing her that he had both items in sight. Weiss reported seeing both the manuscript and the fluid as well and the two agents prepared to move in.

“Freeze,” she ordered before the sniper could shoot. The woman, whom Sydney had identified as such a few seconds before shouting her order, effectively froze. Sydney had approached her from behind on the right, to have her trigger finger in sight, just in case. “Twitch your finger and I’ll blow your head off,” added Sydney for good measure. She could be aiming at anything, most likely Vaughn or Weiss, who were not two meters away from their targets.

“Sydney,” stated the sniper, still in position of shooting with her eye on the sight.

The young agent was startled to recognize her mother’s voice but didn’t lose her concentration. “Lift your right hand slowly and drop the rifle on the ground.”

“Sydney I don’t have time for this, you need to listen to me…”

“I’ll count to three and shoot if you don’t comply and push your gun away,” Sydney ordered, anxious about her mother’s stubborn refusal to relinquish the weapon.

“I don’t intend to shoot anybody,” she tried to argue again, to no avail.

“One, two…”

“Alright,” agreed Irina, swiftly letting go of the gun and shoving it to her right. “Now will you listen to me?”

“Boy-scout, Twinkie, what’s your status?” Asked Sydney while trying to ignore her mother’s pleas.

“Mountaineer, this is Twinkie, we’ve secured the manuscript and the fluid, but the targets got away,” reported Weiss. “Boy Scout is in pursuit.”

“I lost them,” Vaughn piped in.

“Forget them, I’ve got Derevko on the roof directly in front of the meeting place, I need help.”

“Copy that, on our way.”

“Sydney listen to me...you owe me that much,” tried Irina.

“I know what I owe you. And, while I’m thankful that you helped me regain my memory, that doesn’t make you any less dangerous and that doesn’t give you immunity, from me or from the CIA. I’m sorry but I can’t let you interfere with my work.”

“Sydney you can’t let the CIA have the fluid,” stated Irina, slowly getting up from her crouching position.

“Don’t move,” ordered Sydney, fully aware that her mother was probably carrying as many guns and knifes as she herself was. Despite her best efforts, her curiosity was pricked by Irina’s frantic plea. “Why shouldn’t I? So you can have it yourself?”
“No! I don’t want it, I want to destroy it! That’s what I was aiming at!” Protested Irina, taking one step forward.

“Why would you do that? You don’t like the colour?”

“Because whoever has the Rambaldi fluid could do great damage!”

“It’s inoffensive,” snapped Sydney.

“It’s not to The Passenger. Whoever has the fluid will go after The Passenger.”

“So what, you’re trying to protect The Passenger now? Do you even know who it is?”

“Yes, I do. And that’s why I won’t let you or anyone have that fluid,” she concluded before grabbing Sydney’s arm and punching her in the face in a classical, but efficient maneuver. Sydney was smart enough to let go of her gun before Irina could get to it but the woman didn’t mind. She grabbed Sydney in a chokehold and grabbed her own gun from the waistband of her jeans just as Agent Vaughn appeared at the top of the ladder, gun raised.

Irina had had a fifty-fifty chance of being shot but she was confident her vest would protect her. Sydney had hesitated just long enough for her to step closer and overpower her. Irina knew her daughter would have never made that mistake with anyone else and was grateful Sydney had scruples about shooting her mother.

Sydney’s lover was followed by none other than Agent Weiss, probably the ‘Twinkie’ Sydney had called on her comm. “Agent Vaughn, Agent Weiss, nice of you to join us,” she greeted, smiling at the two men.

“Let her go,” yelled Vaughn, bravely stepping forward.

“I don’t think so. Drop the Rambaldi fluid and step back. Then we’ll talk about Sydney.”

“You’re outnumbered,” interjected Agent Weiss. “We’re two and you’re one, in case you have trouble counting.” He saw Vaughn twitch and couldn’t himself believe that he was mocking the dangerous Irina Derevko. “Sorry, bad joke, humour helps relax me,” he mumbled, more for himself than the other three.

“But I have a hostage,” she pointed out, tightening the arm wrapped around Sydney’s throat to make her point. “A hostage who needs to breathe, so I’m not asking you, but I am telling you. Drop your guns and the Rambaldi fluid.” As an afterthought, she added, “and the manuscript too.”

She didn’t tell them Cole had stolen it from her and memorized it. She didn’t tell them that reading it had allowed her to understand and treat Sydney’s condition from memory. She couldn’t allow them to read it, even if it would be useless because the fluid would be no more. It revealed too much about The Chosen One and The Passenger. It told how to find The Passenger, how to use the fluid on her, how it would help her channel Rambaldi and find The Sphere of Life.

“You wouldn’t kill your own daughter,” confidently challenged Vaughn.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she agreed while releasing some of the pressure, much to Sydney’s relief. Then, on a threatening note, she added, moving her gun from Sydney’s head to her side, “but I could seriously hinder her ability to have children with you, or with anyone for that matter.” She felt Sydney shudder in disgust or fear, reminding her of their time together, when Sydney had amnesia and couldn’t stand even looking at her. Everything was so much simpler then. Agent Vaughn’s face went a shade paler while his companion’s took on a look of pure horror.

That people actually believed her to be heartless enough to do such a thing to her own child sometimes pained her, especially when said people were close to her. Today, she had acted on it hoping the agents would believe her cruel enough to execute her threat.

“Mom?” started Sydney, unable to believe what was happening to her. What was so important about The Passenger that Irina was willing to threaten her? She had had the distinct impression that Irina was trying to befriend her. First, during her time in CIA custody, and then when their roles had been reversed and Sydney was playing the prisoner, though Irina had never admitted she was. She briefly wondered if her mother would have really let her go without curing her as she had offered. Now Irina was acting more like when she was in Taipei…cold and cruel.

“Quiet,” ordered Irina, tightening her hold on Sydney’s neck in hopes of making her stop talking. She couldn’t bear to hear the pain in her daughter’s voice. Sydney would never recover from that betrayal. Neither would she.

Sydney hated Rambaldi because of the pain he brought in so many people’s lives, including her own, but her allegiance to her country was so strong…probably stronger than her loyalty to her family. If it was so, then Sydney would run to the CIA with the identity of The Passenger and all would be lost. She was so naïve sometimes, and so trustful of the CIA. She would assume the fluid was harmless and that The Passenger would be released after delivering the location of the Sphere of Life. Irina knew better. If the CIA or anyone else got their hands on Nadia, she would never be free again.

“Alright,” said Weiss who complied by throwing his gun at his feet.

Irina was pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. Agent Weiss had beaten Sydney’s lover, pushing her to wonder if he didn’t have a thing for her daughter. She quickly dismissed the thought as Agent Vaughn finally listened to the voice of reason and reached for his bag after setting his gun down.

He slowly stepped forward, one hand raised, the other holding out the bag.

“Leave it there,” indicated Irina. “Go back and turn around. You too Agent Weiss.” Before the two men’s hesitation, she smirked. “Don’t worry, if I wanted to shoot you I would do so while facing you.” Apparently reassured, they complied and left their hands at their side, where she could see them.

“Take the bottle,” she directed Sydney, walking halfway on the roof where Vaughn had dumped his satchel. Grunting, the female agent did as she was told and let herself be led back toward their previous position. “Open it and empty it. Come on,” prompted Irina when Sydney hesitated.

“Alright.”

“No peeking,” she scolded Vaughn who had instinctively turned at the sound of his lover’s hoarse voice.

“Now what?” Asked Sydney, furious at being forced to do her mother’s dirty work. She suddenly felt Irina’s iron grip vanish and was spun around. She felt more than saw the butt of a gun connect with her forehead and fell unceremoniously on the roof top, moaning.

“Stay back!” Yelled Irina at the two men. “She’s fine,” she added, glancing at Sydney whose hand was covered in blood. Maybe she had hit a little harder than necessary. She bit her lip, willing the guilt to go away. There was no time for that now.

If only she could tell Sydney who was The Passenger, her daughter would understand why it was so important that the fluid be destroyed. She would forgive her mother for going so far as to threaten her of physical harm to get her way. But she couldn’t tell her, it was too dangerous because she couldn’t trust her reaction. So for now, and probably for years to come, Sydney would resent her for this day.

Focusing back on the task at hand, she lighted a flare brought especially for this occasion and ran the fiery end over the pool of greenish liquid, insuring that nothing exploitable remained of it when she was done. Next, she took the manuscript from the bag and barely glanced at it before setting it on fire. The old paper consumed rapidly until only ashes remained. She scattered them with her foot and watched as they blew away with the wind. Satisfied, she glanced at Sydney and was met with a heated, if not blurry, glare.

“Why do you always have to hit me?” Mumbled Sydney incoherently.

“So you can tell the CIA you could do nothing to keep me from destroying the fluid,” calmly explained Irina while still pointing her gun at her daughter’s male counterparts. “I doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she added before disappearing down the wall.

Agent Vaughn and Weiss rushed to their friend and helped her up. They glanced down to see the elusive Irina Derevko had disappeared. Who knew her capable of climbing down a gutter as easily as a cat burglar?

Irina left the city with a heavy heart, knowing that her job was done. The Passenger was safe now. She regretted that losing one daughter was what it took to protect the other.


TBC

BLISSFUL IGNORANCE
Eyghon



Epilogue

Without the manuscript, without the Rambaldi fluid, no one would seek out The Passenger. Nadia was safe.

Or so her mother thought.

No more of Rambaldi fluid would be found on the black market. Irina Derevko had destroyed the last existing batch.

Or so everybody thought.



Somewhere in Asia, a very little known organisation acquired a number of glass bottles filled with a strange, hypnotic green substance.

After their failure with Sydney Bristow, and now that they had more of the Rambaldi fluid, they were even more determined to find The Passenger.

The organisation was known as…

The Covenant.


THE END

Really a good story. Enjoyed editing and reading it over a few times too.
Keep up the good work.

I guess they didn't...or did they? :D :D :D

B)