By clm and Kayryn
Disclaimer: JJ's. Not ours. Never was, never will be. That's too bad, cos Claire would be an excellent script writer and I've pretty much proved that I'd have gifts to be a great director. :sigh:
Rated: G to PG� G I think� Claire? What do you think?
Author's notes:
Kat: I just wanna thank Claire for throwing herself into this one with me. I've never had so much fun writing a story before. Thank you :hug: I can only hope readers will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Claire: It has been a wonderful experience working on this story with you Kat. I have loved seeing how you put our ideas into words. Enjoy everyone!
Part One:
With one bag hanging from her shoulder, and the other one in her hand, Sydney approached the house. Finally done with the CIA debriefings, she was allowed to leave, and when her father had invited her to stay with him for the time being she had surprised herself by jumping at the chance.
It would be a good solution, at least until she found a place of her own or another roommate. Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw the front door opening and her father stepping out.
�Daddy!�
Jack Bristow wore a smile on his face as he came down the steps to meet his daughter halfway. As she reached him, Sydney dropped her bags and entered her father�s open arms. Pressing herself closer to him, she was comforted by his strength. After a moment Jack pulled back, suggesting they should get inside. Picking up one of her bags, he waited for her to take the other one before they entered the house together.
Once inside, Sydney took in the familiarity of the house with all its things and smells. Everything was exactly the way she remembered them from the last time she�d been there. And that had been quite a few years ago.
�I feel like a little kid again,� she said, looking at her father, who was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. Though her voice carried an annoyed inflection, her smile betrayed her true feelings.
Jack smiled at her words. He didn�t really see a problem with this at all.
As Sydney passed the living room something caught her eye and, dropping her bag again, she entered the room. Jack wondered what she�d seen and, out of curiosity, followed her in. He found her by the couch, staring at a blanket draped over the back of it. Sydney looked up at him and smiled. �You still have this?�
Though the question was rhetorical, Jack nodded. He had changed hardly anything in the house. At first it was for Sydney�s sake. For her to retain whatever she could of her mother. And that had held true until three years ago when they had found out that, in reality, Irina never had died. But then life and its unexpected turns had taken over, and Jack barely had time to come home to sleep. Changing furniture had been of a somewhat lesser priority. And lately he had to admit he hadn�t even really wanted to.
Watching Sydney fiddle with the blanket, he found himself remembering how it had been his gift to his two special ladies. "You and your mother both loved it. I remember how you would wrap yourselves in it. You'd either read, watch TV or just talk until you usually fell asleep."
Sydney nodded, the same memories going through her mind. Suddenly she grabbed the blanket and started to open it, twisting and turning the large item until she finally found what she was looking for.
"It's still there," she said, speaking more to herself than to her father.
She had been about five years old when she had insisted on having hot chocolate one night. Bringing it over she had inevitably spilled some of her drink on the blanket and, since the material was very absorbent, the stain remained despite her mother's best efforts to clean it.
Jack, now standing next to Sydney, grabbed the corner of the blanket and laughed. "I remember. Irina was not happy about it."
Sydney looked up sharply at the mention of her mother�s real name. Somehow the memories she�d just visited and the name of the woman who�d betrayed everything she believed in didn�t fit together. And yet it seemed that, to her father, those two people were the one and the same.
Jack became aware of the sudden uneasy silence between them and told her that dinner was ready and waiting, in case she wanted to eat. Though she was not exactly hungry, Sydney was grateful for the distraction and accepted the offer.
As Sydney made her way to her room upstairs, Jack stood frozen in place, thinking back�
Laura came back from the bathroom clearly upset. Looking at Jack she said, �I can�t get the stain out� it�s stuck.�
Before Jack could offer a response she�d turned her attention to their five-year-old. �And no more drinks in the living room. We eat in the kitchen.�
With that, Laura turned on her heels and disappeared back into the bathroom, not noticing the way her daughter's lower lip had started to quiver.
Jack, however, did notice. He picked up the girl and assured her that mommy wasn�t really that mad, and that there was nothing to worry about.
�Promise?� Sydney asked him.
�Promise. In fact, I�m going to see Mommy right now and make sure she isn�t mad, okay?� At Sydney�s nodding of her head, he kissed her cheek and set her back down.
�Don�t worry. You can go and play now, I�ll come and see you in a while.�
Jack watched her run off to play before he went in search of his wife. Finding her, predictably, in the bathroom over the sink, he smiled in spite of himself. She was as stubborn as they come.
"Just leave it, Laura."
"No. I... it's such a beautiful blanket, Jack... and..."
"Laura... it's just a stain," Jack tried to reason with her. �It�ll still warm just the same way.�
Laura paused her vigorous efforts to clean the stain. Jack took this as a good sign and pushed a little further. �She�s very upset about it, Laura. Almost burst into tears thinking that you�re mad at her.�
Hearing this had the effect Jack was looking for, and Laura turned around, looking slightly guilty. �You�re right, of course. I�ll go talk to her in a moment. It�s our fault anyway. I mean� who are the parents here? We should�ve known better than to let her take that mug out of the kitchen.�
Laura sighed again and put the soap away. Jack stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, causing her to lean on him. �It�s just life, Laura.�
Brought back to the present by the noise Syd was making in the kitchen, Jack shook his head a little. Just life indeed.
Dinner was a quiet affair, neither Jack nor Sydney finding much to talk about besides the occasional comment about the food. Finally Sydney excused herself, claiming she was still exhausted. Jack nodded, saying it was understandable. She was almost out of the room when he stopped her.
"Sydney?"
He waited for her to turn.
"Would you like me to wake you up in the morning?"
It was such a fatherly thing to say that Sydney couldn't help but smile. And though she'd been setting her own alarm for years, the way her father offered to do it made her want to take his offer.
Sydney smiled at him and said, "Sure. Eight?"
"I'll have breakfast ready," Jack stated as he, too, got up and started to collect the dishes.
She retraced her way to him and leaned in closer to kiss him on the cheek, but at the last minute she decided to hug him instead. The embrace lingered on until Sydney confessed she would not be able to remain standing much longer.
With a little gentle ushering, Jack set her on her way upstairs, then turned to clear the table.
Sydney woke up and took a moment to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Then she realized she had been awakened by a sound from somewhere in the house. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and groaned in protest when the read numbers told her it was only 1:37am.
She was about to close her eyes again when she heard another sound. Curiosity getting the best of her, she got up and decided to go and investigate. Still sleepy, she slowly made her way downstairs and, following the low murmur of her father's voice, approached his study.
Getting closer, Sydney noticed the door to the study was slightly ajar. She could now hear her father's voice clearly, but instead of focusing on the words, she noticed the soft, affectionate tone he was using. Sydney wondered who could be on the other end of the phone for her father to be so tender.
Opening the door, Sydney was shocked to see her not only her father but, in his embrace, her mother.
Because she was momentarily rendered speechless, it took Jack, who was facing her, a few moments to be alerted to her presence. Once he saw her, though, he pulled back from Irina a little. But before he could say anything Sydney had found her voice again.
"Mom?"
Part Two:
Jack gently eased his hold of Irina, allowing her to face their daughter. Sydney, still clearly in shock, stood deathly still in the doorway, staring at her, while Irina mirrored her daughter�s frozen position. Seeing all of this, Jack approached Sydney. Placing an arm around her shoulder, he soothingly attempted to coax her further into the room. Despite her father's encouragement, Sydney was still a little reluctant to move, so Jack caught Irina's eyes with his and, inclining his head, silently urged her to take the first step.
In spite of her own reservations about her daughter's readiness to accept her back into her life again, Irina decided to trust Jack's judgement over her own insecurities.
Closing the distance between them in few steps, Irina enfolded her daughter in her arms and as she felt Sydney hugging her back, a sob of relief escaped her lips.
Sydney was surprised at how the lurking discomfort she'd felt upon Irina's approach disappeared as soon as she was surrounded by her mother's protective embrace. The feeling of belonging filled her and she realized that she had not felt this safe since she was a child. Since before her mother had left them. The dose of reality that came with the last thought caused Sydney to pull away from her mother, albeit slowly.
Irina watched as her daughter took her time to collect herself. Taking a loose strand of Sydney's hair between her fingers, Irina tucked it behind Sydney's ear and watched as her eyes grew bigger as the action evoked a long-forgotten memory. Tucking Sydney's hair behind her ear was something Irina had always done when she was small. The girl's long hair always fell on her face, escaping all pony tails and braids. Irina, while pleased that Sydney recalled this, felt a twinge of pain at the fact that it had been forgotten.
The myriad of emotions that were raging inside Sydney were also evident on her face as she struggled to make sense of what she was remembering and witnessing. The woman in front of her, Irina, was her mother, but to Sydney she was also a ruthless, cold KGB agent who'd destroyed her life as well as her father's. And yet, as she now stood before her, she saw the woman that she'd known as Laura Bristow.
Needing to distance herself from Irina, Sydney broke their eye contact and searched for her father�s eyes instead. As if reading her thoughts in an instant, Jack reached out to Irina, touching her arm to draw attention to himself.
�I�m going to make some tea for us,� he said, directing his words to Irina. Then, with a soft peck on her cheek, he left for the kitchen. After a moment the women followed him silently, and Sydney thought it funny that, even after all these years, Daddy�s study was still off limits unless he was there.
Walking to the living room, Irina stopped to pick up a bag that Sydney assumed she'd brought with her. She moved it out of the way and next to the living room doorway.
"Don't want anyone tripping on it," she offered with a forced smile.
Sydney nodded and entered the living room, sitting down in the recliner, leaving Irina to choose between another one or the couch. Deciding to occupy a corner of the couch, Irina sat down as her eyes rested upon the blanket. With obvious affection, she reached for it and hugged it closely, clinging to it almost like it was a lifeline.
Sydney watched as her mother brought the blanket to her face, closing her eyes, smelled it, as if she could be taken back to the past with the simple action.
Then, while Sydney�s gaze was still on Irina, the older woman opened her eyes and looked at her from under her eyebrows. A wicked grin spread across Irina�s lips, and the blanket was turned and twisted around in her hands until she finally stopped with a triumphant smile, showing off the stain she'd found.
Under Irina's mischievous eyes, Sydney blushed crimson as the old guilt she�d experienced as a child resurfaced, making her look a great deal the like she did when she had made the mess in the first place. Irina, witnessing the apologetic expression on Sydney's face, was unable to stop herself from laughing a little. But the sound was not entirely a happy one and it soon died down, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. Irina, still holding on to the blanket, was trying to open a conversation with Sydney, but everything she could think of sounded inadequate in her head. Sydney for her part, seemed to be just as, if not even more, unsure of what to say and so the silence stretched on.
Finally Jack came back carrying a tray with three mugs, conveniently giving the women something else to focus on. Trying to appear nonchalant, he said he'd heard laughter and asked if he could get in on the joke as well.
"It was just�"
"I was just�"
Both Sydney and Irina started to explain at the same time, then abruptly fell silent, waiting for the other to continue. Eventually, after several quick looks to both Irina and her father, Sydney told him what had happened.
Jack was encouraged by what he heard, thinking that sharing a memory of the good times was a good step forward. But the uneasiness between the two women was hard to miss, and he knew he'd have to help them along. Sitting down next to Irina, he laced their fingers together in a silent message to both his wife and daughter, trusting them to understand what he was trying to convey. Which to Sydney was, simply put, that he trusted Irina and was hoping she'd give her mother another chance. To Irina it was simply an offer of his support. He knew Irina was worried about upsetting Sydney, of making mistakes. He decided it would be the best to start from mundane things and see where it took them.
"Did you have any trouble getting into the country?" Jack asked Irina, oblivious to just how mundane that would sound to an average person.
Irina, however, read him perfectly and was about to answer in a sarcastic way when she caught the stony look on Sydney's face. Clearly the reminder of Irina's status as an international terrorist had struck her daughter again. Grimacing, Irina wished, and not for the first time either, that she could be the mother that her daughter deserved. That they both deserved.
"No" was the only reply she offered.
Observant as always, Sydney realized that her reaction to her father's question had not gone unnoticed. In an effort to defuse the situation, she tried to take a more active role in the so-called conversation.
"How long since you were last in the States?"
"It's been a few months. Because of your father's imprisonment�" Irina paused and glanced at Jack before continuing, "I didn't really have reason to keep coming back unless it was to find a clue about your whereabouts."
Sydney took a moment for the words, and the meaning behind them, to sink in.
Seeing this as a good opportunity, Jack continued on Irina's behalf. "I think you should know�your mother never gave up on you. She refused to believe for a minute that you were dead."
At this, Irina looked at Jack, touched by his support for her, so she missed the look of surprise on Sydney's face.
The next hour or so went by quickly as the newly reunited family slowly started to rebuild the trust that had been broken so many years before. Most of the talking was done by Jack and Irina, as they filled Sydney in on their search for her.
When Sydney yawned for the fourth time in as many minutes, though, Irina suggested her daughter get some rest. At first Sydney resisted, but gave in because of her father's insistence and reasoning. It was true that the day had been eventful and emotionally exhausting. Getting up from the recliner, she nodded her acquiescence. As well as being tired, she also needed time to digest everything she'd heard that evening.
"We'll talk more tomorrow," Irina promised her as she and Jack got up as well.
Taking a step towards her father, Sydney was about to hug him goodnight for the second time, when it dawned on her that she couldn't do that and not hug her mother good night as well. With this realization she stopped abruptly and avoided meeting the eyes of her parents. Awkwardly, she hurriedly bid them both goodnight before moving away again.
As she reached the top of the stairs, she could hear the low voices of her parents and, retracing her steps a little, returned to the bottom of the stairs where she could hear them better. Pushing all guilt on eavesdropping on her parents� private conversation aside, she carefully peeked from behind the corner. Her parents had remained standing, with Jack touching Irina's arm in a comforting manner.
"She doesn't trust me, Jack," Irina said, unknowingly causing Sydney to wince.
"Yes, she does�" Jack tried to reassure her, but Irina shook her head.
"No, she doesn't. And you know it. She doesn't trust me," Irina repeated. "I feel like she's slipping through my fingers. I can't reach her."
Even from that distance, Sydney was able to see the tears running down her mother's cheek. She watched as her father pulled her mother to him, enfolding her in his embrace and offering what comfort he could.
Slowly and without a sound, Sydney made her way back upstairs and to her room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want to trust her mother. Quite on the contrary, she was desperate to do so. But there was so much history between them. So much pain. And then there was the fact that she had left them. Not just once, but twice. Not wanting to focus on the negatives alone, Sydney reminded herself that there were still lots of things she didn't know about the two-year gap in her life. And in that area especially, her father seemed to trust her mother implicitly. And she trusted her father.
She walked to her bed and slipped between the sheets. Staring at the ceiling, she thought back to her mother's words: "We'll talk more tomorrow." Sighing again, Sydney closed her eyes, she hoped to find the answers she sought.
Downstairs, Jack pulled back from Irina and, gently placing a finger under her chin, he encouraged her to look at him. "She'll trust you again, Irina. Just give her time. She needs it." A hint of a smile graced his lips as he added, "If I remember correctly, the last time she saw you, you jumped off a building."
This drew a soft chuckle from Irina. But, even through her mirth, Jack was still able to see the doubt in her eyes.
~*~
A knock on the door caused Sydney to stir from her slumber. Groaning in protest, Sydney burrowed her face in her pillow when she heard her father's voice from the other side of the door telling her it was just past eight.
"Breakfast is waiting," he reminded her.
"Okay! I'm just gonna take a quick shower and I'll be right there," she said.
A few minutes later Sydney opened the door and padded downstairs. While in the shower, she'd thought about the events of the night before and had decided to at least try and talk with her mother. If her father trusted her mother as much as he seemed to, maybe she could learn to do so as well.
When she was halfway down the stairs, something occurred to her. There were no voices... none of the low whisperings she'd heard the night before. Shaking her head to rid herself of that morbid thought, Sydney berated herself for immediately assuming the worst. She really should give her mother a chance... especially after what she had overheard the night before.
Passing the living room, she glanced in that direction. Finding no one there, she continued her to walk through the house. Again, something told her that everything was not as it should have been, but she dismissed the thought.
Entering the kitchen she saw that the table was set only for two, and instantly realized what had bothered her about the living room. The bag her mother had brought with her the night before, the one that had laid in the living room doorway was missing.
Trying to push away the dread that was threatening to overtake her, she stared at her father's rigid back. In a slightly shaky voice she asked, "Where's mom?"
Without turning to face her, Jack answered, "She's gone."
PART THREE
"What?"
Sydney walked over to her father so she could see his face.
"She's gone," he repeated.
The words, though said in a low voice, screamed in Sydney's ears. But even as she silently cursed her mother for deceiving them again, and herself for almost falling into her web all over again, she noticed that her father didn't seem bothered by his revelation at all.
"What do you mean 'gone'?" Sydney finally asked.
"She had to leave before sunrise, to avoid detection. The house is still under surveillance at times and we can't risk her being here during the day," Jack explained, turning around just in time to see the anger on Sydney's face. In an effort to hide her unwarranted anger toward her mother, she brushed past him and went over to the refrigerator, retrieving a juice container. She muttered quietly, "This family�"
Turning around, she found herself on the receiving end of her father's disapproving glare. Feeling chastised, she quickly turned away again and took her juice to the table.
Jack, though angry at Sydney for being so ready to believe the worst of her mother, refused to dwell on those pessimistic thoughts and decided to drop the topic for now. "I made your eggs scrambled. I remember you used to like them that way. I hope it's alright."
~*~
Irina quietly opened the backdoor and entered the kitchen. Her clothes were soaking wet after standing in the rain for almost an hour, making sure it was safe to enter the house. She was greeted with the familiar tunes of Liszt's Sospiro filling the air, and she smiled. She'd always loved that piece. Shivering from cold, she took her shoes off and carried them, silently made her way upstairs to the bedroom. She needed to change out of her wet clothes. Opening several drawers, she took out a towel and some clothes, which she then laid on the bed. Wrapping the towel around her long dark hair, she squeezed most of the water into the soft fabric. Then she started to put on the clothes she'd chosen, grateful that she'd accepted Jack's offer to store some of her things at the house when they'd first started working together.
When she came back downstairs, she saw the door to Jack's study partly open and went in. He was sitting behind his desk, going over papers and completely unaware of the rest of the world. She approached him slowly, trying not to startle him, and succeeded when he acknowledged her presence by looking up. She smiled at his appearance, thinking that he looked ready to eat, dressed in faded jeans and a black turtleneck.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Getting up from behind the desk, Jack closed the distance between them. Giving Irina a quick kiss, he reached to touch her still damp hair. "Your hair's all wet."
"Yeah," she said. She pointed out to the window. "It's raining."
Jack followed her finger and noticed that it was pouring outside. The analytical part of his brain quickly made a conjecture on how long she'd been forced to stay in the rain and realizing it wasn't a matter of minutes he frowned. "You should get something warm to drink. How does tea sound?"
Irina nodded in acquiescence before leaning closer for a longer and more thorough kiss. Finally separating, they rested their foreheads together for a moment, catching their breaths before Jack quietly told her that Sydney was in the living room, waiting. Irina nodded again and, after a one more brush with her lips on his, she left the room.
Leaning against the wall, Irina took a moment to study her daughter before entering the room. Sydney was sitting in the recliner, with her nose in a book. Stepping into the room, Irina smiled. Sydney was so like her in many ways, including her love for literature.
Now alerted to her mother's presence, Sydney raised her eyes from the text and marked her place before closing it.
"Hi," Irina greeted.
"Hey."
Her smile wavering, Irina sat down and waited for Sydney to take the lead. But as the silence stretched on, she let her gaze wander around the room, trying to think of a way to open a conversation.
"What were you reading?"
"The Cherry Orchard," Sydney answered. "But I wasn't really making any progress. I think I read the same paragraph six or seven times without comprehending any of it. I've been a little� preoccupied."
Irina nodded her understanding. Sydney was bound to have lots of questions that demanded answers. And that's what Irina was there for. To give her those answers to the best of her ability.
The two women looked up when Jack cleared his throat softly and entered the room, carrying a single cup with steaming tea. Bringing it over to Irina, he encouraged her to drink it to keep warm. She smiled her thanks and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. As the women watched, Jack went over to the stereo and took out the CD that had been playing and replaced it with another. Both Irina and Sydney realized that watching him was a stalling technique on their part, but neither complained.
When the soft music began to fill the room, Sydney listened to it for a while before recognizing it as Handel's. She also saw the look that was exchanged by her parents. Something was said between them through the music, but just what that something was, Sydney didn't know.
As the seconds passed and threatened to turn into minutes, Sydney watched her parents communicating silently. Although intrigued by what she was witnessing, she was starting to feel excluded. Shifting uncomfortably in her recliner, she unavoidably reminded her parents of her presence. And while she was glad they remembered she was in the room with them, the loss of connection between them was tangible, and Sydney was regretful to have that pass.
For a moment Jack's eyes shifted to the floor to avoid the eyes of both his wife and daughter. Then, looking up, he announced that he would be in the in the kitchen, heating leftovers from the night before. As he started to leave, he gestured in Irina's direction with his hand. "Don't forget to drink that while it's still warm."
Irina looked at the already forgotten cup in her hands and smiled, "Right." As Jack was passing her, she grabbed his hand, effectively stopping him.
Tilting her head back to meet his eyes, Irina's fingers gently caressed the hand she was holding. Tugging his hand, she invited him to get closer. As he did, she kissed his cheek.
"Thank you," she said, her voice reflecting her affection.
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Jack smiled and nodded, before releasing her hand and moving away.
Only when they heard Jack making noises in the kitchen did Irina direct her attention to Sydney again.
"How long are you staying this time?"
Bending her head down for a moment, Irina adjusted to the sudden change in the atmosphere.
"Alright, I deserved that," she finally said. She raised her head to face Sydney's stare. "If you mean tonight, I will be gone by dawn." At Sydney's hurt expression she elaborated, "But I want to be part of your life, if you'll let me."
Sydney fell silent, unsure of her reaction to those words.
"Sydney," Irina tried again, "I know you must have questions� about a lot of things� I'd like to answer them� anything at all that you want to know. All you have to do is ask."
Her daughter continued to stare at her silently.
"Sydney?"
"Did you know that Neil Caplan's wife was SVR?" Sydney finally asked. "She gave herself up to help her husband. Her first instinct was to protect the lives of her family."
Feeling as though she had been kicked in the stomach, Irina looked at her daughter, unable to believe what she was hearing, the unspoken questions ringing in her ears: Why didn't you turn yourself in? Why did you destroy our family?
When she spoke, Irina's voice was quivering a little, "Elsa Caplan was lucky. She had a choice."
"And you didn't?" Sydney immediately shot back.
"Yes, you're right. I did have a choice," her mother said, her voice now getting a steely edge to it as she tried to control her own anger and frustration. "I could have chosen to stay. I could have chosen to never have this conversation with you. I could have chosen the path that would have led KGB into murdering us all. But I didn't. I chose to protect my family."
As she listened to her mother's flood of words, Sydney began to accept them as the truth that they were. She was starting to see her mother in a different light. Instead of a woman hell-bent on luring her and her father into a trap, Sydney saw her mother. Not necessarily Laura Bristow, but someone who had cared for her, loved her when she was a child. And had never stopped. Suddenly alarmed, she realized that the woman sitting in front of her was scared. Scared of losing what's important to her.
"I chose to keep you alive, and I will not apologize for that," she heard her mother say with vehemence.
Just as Sydney was about to respond, Jack's voice bellowed from the kitchen, telling them that dinner was almost ready and that the table still needed to be set.
"Don't expect me to do everything around here," he advised them.
At first, startled by the sudden interruption, neither Sydney nor Irina budged from their seats. But then, slowly, they got up together and went to help him out.
Jack, who was standing by the stove, watched as the two women entered the kitchen, Irina going straight for the cabinet to take out the glasses, while Sydney searched for the knives and forks.
Amused, and touched even, Jack wondered if they even noticed how they had fallen right back into the roles they had had some 20 years earlier.
When Irina came back from the table, she took out the plates and left them on the counter. Only a moment later, as Irina was already standing beside Jack, Sydney came back, took the plates and carried them to the table. Jack merely shook his head.
"What is it?" Irina asked him as she noticed his amusement.
"Later," he offered, refusing to elaborate.
Raising an eyebrow, she tolerated his answer. She was making a conscious effort not to brood over her unfinished conversation with Sydney. She was not convinced that she'd gotten through to her yet. In fact, if she was honest with herself, she was not sure she ever would. But at least she'd been able to explain why she had left, even if it had come out more heated than what she'd intended. Although, Irina had known the evening would be far from easy, she had been unprepared for things to be this hard.
Forcing the gloomy thoughts away for the moment, she took another look at the dinner that was nearly done.
"So, what are we having?" she asked Jack, lifting one of the lids to see inside the pan.
"Pasta with chicken and sauce."
Smiling approvingly, Irina dipped her finger into the sauce with a quick move and brought it to her lips, tasting the sauce. She laughed as Jack playfully slapped her hand away.
In a low voice that was meant to be heard only by Irina, Jack told her he loved to hear her laugh. Irina rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, whispering to him, "And I love you."
Bringing his hand to her head, he caressed her hair, twirling the long strands around his fingers. "I love you, too."
Sydney, who was already sitting at the table, watched her parents from afar. She found herself smiling at their interaction, but pretended not to hear everything they were saying by studying the label on the wine bottle. She looked up only when her father announced that the food was ready.
Ducking from underneath Jack's arm, Irina grabbed one of the pans and brought it over to the table while Jack balanced the other two.
After glancing at the food, Sydney looked up to her mother and saw the uncertain expression on her face. Trying to reassure her, Sydney smiled and said, "Everything looks good."
~*~
It was nearly dawn, but the Bristow family was still in the living room, talking. Around 5am Jack regretfully reminded Irina that the sun would soon start rising and that the inevitable moment of separation was at hand. Irina nodded her acknowledgement, but continued to relate a story from her childhood to Sydney. When she finished a few minutes later, she looked at the time herself and sighed.
"Jack," she started, "could you get my things from the bedroom? My bag's next to the bed, and I just need an extra shirt and the clothes I had when I got here."
"Of course. I'll be right back," he promised and left.
When her father was gone, Sydney looked at her mother and studied her face in great detail, giving Irina the impression that Sydney was trying to determine whether or not she should say what was in her mind.
"Look, I� I wanted to say something�" Sydney finally began. "It's been bothering me all night and, well� I just really need to say it."
Irina frowned at Sydney's words, but stopped herself from commenting. She waited for Sydney to continue.
"Ever since you came back I've said some awful things to you� and about you." Sydney paused and ducked her head in shame. Knowing the truth now, knowing what she'd put her mother through, made her feel guilt-ridden. She knew her cheeks were probably red from embarrassment and the tears in her eyes didn't help either, but she forced herself to continue. "I�I even told you that� that you weren't my mother. That my mother� that you were dead. I want you� to know that I am� I am so sorry that I said that. I never should have said that. I'm sorry."
Irina watched her daughter struggle with the words and had to restrain herself from hugging her before she could finish her apology. When it appeared she was done for the moment at least, Irina went over to her and grasped her gently by her shoulders, forcing Sydney to look at her. With tears shimmering in her own eyes, she said, "Sydney, thank you. But you really don't have to apologize. When I walked in, there was no real reason for you to trust me. I always knew that. I've said this to you before. You're too forgiving."
When Sydney was about to object, Irina overrode her and continued, "And that time you came to see me� you were right. Laura Bristow is dead. I know we've come a long way tonight, but I don't want you to pretend I'm something I'm not."
Irina watched her daughter stood up and approached her. With tears streaming down her face, Sydney drew her mother into a hug.
"I'm not� you are my mother."
Unseen Jack stood by the doorway, and watched mother and daughter as they welcomed each other back into their lives and he smiled. Even with everything their family had gone through, it was clear that the love they had for each other was something that even time could not erase.
The end
*sniff* It's over�
BACK TO ALIAS PAGE