Chapter 4

Sydney entered the train station lost in thought. She'd dreamt again last night. This time it had been about something she had placed with no problem. She wished she hadn't.

She knew that forgetting about the cube had only been half the reason she went through the procedure to erase her memories. After all, she could have had removed only a couple of weeks instead of two years if that was all she wanted to forget. Sydney regretted the loss of some of her memories even more now than she ever had before, but the six months of torturing and brainwashing... She wished she could forget those again.

Six hours of remembering physical and emotional pain hadn't let her rest and only the thickest make-up covered the bags under her eyes. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate today but calling in sick wasn't really an option. Sloane would take it as an opportunity to butt in her private life and Sydney would rather gouge her eyes out than allow that to happen. Actually she didn't want anyone asking about her tiredness. She wasn't ready to share. She needed to remember her life on her own. The cube had been found out and she was reliving her torture in dreams... It made no sense that the only thing she was missing now was the part she desperately needed to remember.

"Morning, Syd," Eric greeted her and Sydney realized she had spaced out.

"Hi, Eric." She smiled at him sweetly. It didn't work.

"Wow, you don't look so hot." He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Mike kept you up all night again?" Weiss wiggled his eyebrows playfully, then frowned, "Hey, wasn't he on a mission last night? He should be on a plane right now."

"Yes, he called me earlier. The mission went okay. He'll be here in..." she checked her watch, "about two hours."

"So, what is it then?" he insisted.

Damn it, Weiss knew all her diversionary tactics. "It's nothing... Really," she stressed before he could call her on her lie, already walking backwards away from him. "Have lunch with me?" she asked, knowing he had a lunch date with Nadia.

Weiss flinched, "I can't, me and Nadia-"

"Tomorrow then," she cut him off and then turned around and went into the washroom.

Sydney hated lying to Eric. His friendship had been the only thing that had gotten her through the ordeal that had been the last year. But she wasn't ready to share. And what would she say, really? 'Oh, Eric, do you know how it feels to be shocked with an electric current so high that the stench of your own flesh burning makes you retch? I do. Pass the salt, please.'

Her reflection in the mirror made her grimace. She really looked horrible. She couldn't mask the anxiousness in her eyes. She couldn't hide it from Weiss, or her father, maybe not even from Nadia who didn't know her all that well yet. 'Who knew, it might be that Vaughn was the only one she could fool,' she thought bitterly.

Thinking about Vaughn brought her back to the topic of her missing memories. Sydney needed to remember herself more than anything. Her likes and dislikes. She had recently discovered that she couldn't stand the taste of olives now, which surprised her because she used to love them 'before'.

Sometimes it felt like she was betraying herself by going back to being the old Sydney, disregarding all the changes she'd undergone. After all, it was a fact of life. People change. Every experience a person goes through marks them in some way. She had lost two years of change and personal growth. Sydney hated that thought.

Who was to say she hadn't been better off by the end of those years? Who she'd met and what she'd learned...

Sydney realized she was trying to justify to herself the presence of Sark in that dream she'd had. Because once she'd learned that Julia Thorne didn't exist, that it had been her all along, the justifications for his being there fell short of making sense.

The door opened, startling her, and Nadia poked her head in. "Sloane's called a meeting."

"I'll be right there," Sydney said, avoiding eye contact.

Nadia left and Sydney took her glasses from her handbag. She didn't wear them often, usually only after long hours in the office or in front of the computer, but she'd take any chance she got to shield her eyes.

'Hopefully, Sloane will send me somewhere half way across the world and I'll get a few hours to think... Or sleep.'

"This makes eleven. Only one more to go," Lazarey said, carefully placing the ancient key in the chest with the others. Then he put the chest in his back-pack.

They started walking out of the catacombs, almost completely surrounded by darkness, only the torch in her hand to illuminate their path. Its light caught on Lazarey's hand and Sydney noticed the ring for the first time.

"Are you married, Andrian?" she asked in her fake British accent. Kendall had decided she should maintain her Julia persona at all times. Even he himself called her Julia most of the time. Lazarey knew nothing about Sydney Bristow.

The Russian looked at her surprised. They didn't usually talk about their private lives. "I was. She died a long time ago." He got lost in some memory for a moment. "Alya killed herself, Miss Thorne, after suffering from depression for years when we lost Julian."

"Julian? But I thought you said he was supposed to inherit all that money in my trust?"

Sydney had been shocked that Lazarey had made her the 'executor' of his fortune until his son claimed it. 800 millions no less. He and Kendall had agreed that having her take the money would provide a cover for her killing him other than his involvement with Rambaldi, which was the reason the Covenant ordered her to kill him.

"He's not dead," Lazarey explained dryly, none too pleased with her questions, apparently. "I exchanged him for three of the keys and one of Rambaldi's manuscripts."

Sydney froze. How could he say it like that? He hadn't even stopped walking. Lazarey had made it sound like the most natural thing, as if he thought he'd made a great deal. The lack of light made him stop and look back at her. The puzzlement on his face said clearly he didn't think he'd done anything wrong. Sydney resumed walking but didn't say anything, just gave him a tight smile. 'My God, what kind of man is this?' she wondered, repulsed by the thought. And then she thought of something even worse, "Who would buy your son for that price?"

Lazarey's eyes glinted in the dim light. "A powerful woman with her own agenda for Rambaldi's legacy."

Warning bells rang in Sydney's mind. A woman in the world of Rambaldi? How many artefacts had she recovered in the years since Rambaldi had barged in her life? And how many women had been involved in this craziness? One. Only ever one. Had her mother bought a little child for her own agenda?

"How old was he?" she asked, forcing her voice to not tremble with disbelief at this man, not shake with rage for the child's sake, not to crumble with the fear of her own mother's involvement.

"Eight."

Sydney almost choked. Eight years old! 'God, mom, tell me you didn't,' she pleaded silently.

Sark was Lazarey's son.

"In some ways, I think of her as a mother myself."

Irina had owned him since he was eight years old. No wonder he thought of her as a mother figure. But, did he know she'd bought him? Surely he'd resent her if he did... Wouldn't he?

Truthfully, Sydney knew nothing about J-... Sark. Even in her mind, she stumbled upon his name. She couldn't make herself call him Julian, he was Sark to her.

Suddenly, a smile broke out on her face when she remembered she had 800 millions that legally belonged to Sark. Wouldn't he love that?

Sydney opened her eyes slowly, a residual smile from her dream on her lips. The vibration of the plane had lulled her to sleep. Understandable since she hadn't rested the night before.

The dreams were coming almost every time she slept now. Usually old ones, but from time to time a new memory resurfaced. In any way, the shock had worn off now and she didn't jolt awake anymore. Which was a good thing because she shared her bed with Vaughn more often than not and she was sharing a couch with Weiss right now. She didn't want him to question her again.

Her dream kept spinning in her head. Sark's name wasn't a revelation anymore but her mother's actions were new. Sydney couldn't believe it. And it was too late to question her about it now.

The conflicting emotions about her mother's death warred inside her. She felt hurt and betrayed because Irina had tried to kill her. But in spite of all her faults and her past actions, Sydney couldn't help but love her mother. She had forgiven her father's mistakes and questionable actions after all.

The last year, knowing her father was in contact with her mother... She had been slowly working up the courage or the determination to talk to Irina herself. Screw the CIA. Her loyalties weren't what they used to be anyway.

But Irina Derevko was dead now and Sydney would never have the chance to talk to her again, to ask her why... Why she had done so many of the things she had.

"Aren't you proud of her, Irina?" Sark asked.

Irina didn't answer. Instead, she considered her options. She could disregard what he'd told her and his obvious wish to remain as uninvolved as possible and force him into doing what she wanted... Or she could let him go, for the moment. She really needed him down the line even if he refused her in the end.

But there was one thing that she couldn't pass up. "So you're mad at her because she set you up. And now you want nothing to do with her...Right?"

Sark only nodded, he knew where Irina was going with that thought and he cursed himself for not thinking about it beforehand.

Irina raised a knowing eyebrow. "So did I, Sark. And yet here you are. If I were to ask any other thing you'd have no problem working with me again." She paused for effect. "Why is Sydney any different?"

'Because she is,' he thought, but he didn't say it aloud. He said nothing.

Irina didn't expect an answer and she didn't wait for one. "We still have some time, but not long. I really need you for this, Sark."

Chapter 5

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