Chapter 6
Sydney didn't know what to do. She couldn't go to her father with this, he wouldn't like that she'd talked to Katya. Hell, she didn't like that she'd talked to Katya. The last time she'd seen her aunt, Katya had tried to kill her.
Her father had always been firm in his belief that the Derevko women couldn't be trusted. There were moments when Sydney wondered if that included her too. Some days she couldn't convince herself that it didn't. Sydney knew without a doubt that her father loved her and would give his life for her. But sometimes he couldn't seem to forget that she was indeed Irina Derevko's daughter.
Not to mention that bringing Katya to his attention would remind him of her mother and the fact that he'd killed her. They'd never talked about it. Not that there was much to say about it or that they had a habit of talking about anything much. Work seemed to be the only thing they had in common, keeping them in touch with each other; maybe because that was the only thing her father seemed to live for. But even if they hadn't mentioned it since he'd lied to Nadia and told Sydney about it, Sydney knew that it hadn't been easy for him and she was sure that he regretted his actions now. There could have been another way.
Late one night, with the office almost empty, Sydney had gone to ask him about something mission related and had found his father staring at his computer screen, lost in thought. He'd changed the screen to something different when she'd made her presence know, but in the middle of their conversation Sloane had stopped by the office and asked Jack to step out for a short word on his way out. Sydney hadn't been able to resist temptation. When she'd seen what her father had been staring at her heart had broken. For him, for herself.
A series of pictures taken from the surveillance tapes of her mother in custody in the glass cell at the JFT building looked back at her. Irina sleeping, her dark hair splayed on the pillow. Irina meditating, sitting in the middle of the room in the lotus position. Irina talking to Sydney, eyes soft and a loving smile on her face.
The last picture was of Irina looking directly at the camera, that damn knowing smile of hers curving her lips and an amused gleam in her eyes; and Sydney knew, as she was sure her father did, that she was smiling for him.
So, no, going to her father about this wasn't an option. She couldn't bring this to APO or the CIA, not if it was as important and dangerous as Katya insisted it was...
Sydney closed her eyes quickly, shaking her head as if that would erase the name that kept popping in her mind. There was no way that she could do that.
She needed help. Sydney would never get what Katya had asked her to by herself. She needed someone she could trust to find the information for her no matter how deep they had to go to get it...
Sydney sighed, defeated. She really had no other choice.
He didn't know why he'd kept the box active. God knew he never expected it to be used again. He'd checked it almost by habit before leaving the post office, and the country. He was going to his 'family' home in Russia for a short visit to make sure things were running smoothly before disappearing underground to start planning his next move. Like getting 800 millions dollars.
But of course, the simple white card sitting in the box had changed everything.
An hour later, in the privacy of his office, Sark stared at the words for what felt like hours. Six words in black ink. Nothing else. No name, no contact information. Not even an explanation. Sark wouldn't mind the latter but he didn't need the others. He knew who'd sent the card after all. Only one person knew about that particular box. He'd opened it a long time ago just for her. But damn it, what did she expect from him?
I need to talk to you.
What kind of game was she playing? He didn't work for her anymore. She couldn't order him around like that.
Sark rose from his desk and went to the window, leaning his forehead on the glass. He couldn't deny that he was curious, what could possibly be that important that she resorted back to him?
But he was also mad, still, and he didn't care what hole she'd dug herself into now. She was a big girl, she could find her own way out.
'Forget it,' Sark decided. 'I've got a plane to Russia to catch.'
Sydney closed the door to her apartment softly. The last week had been trying. Two missions in two remote locations, as far away from each other as possible while staying on the same planet, and another nerve-wracking visit to Katya had left her exhausted.
Sloane had given both Nadia and her a long weekend off and Nadia had dragged Weiss away to a spa for some much needed downtime, but Sydney couldn't leave. She was still waiting to get an answer to her request for help. If she didn't get it soon she'd have to find another way. Katya had insisted she was running out of time.
Dropping her bag and jacket on the kitchen counter, Sydney was glad to have the house to herself for a few days. She loved living with Nadia, family had always been a big thing for her and she hadn't had the chance to experience it until now, something she had in common with Nadia.
All the same, alone time was welcome right now. She pulled a glass from the cupboard and picked the bottle opener from the drawer, grabbing a bottle of red wine on her way to the living room. Before she could turn on the light a voice startled her.
"Make that two glasses."
Sydney froze, her eyes wide open, her hands trembling almost unnoticeably. But he noticed.
"Are you really that surprised, Sydney? You invited me after all."
Regaining the ability to move, Sydney turned on the light and left the bottle, glass and opener on the coffee table, then went back to the kitchen to get another glass. She set it softly before him and he poured himself a cup. Sydney saw he'd already filled her glass and took it, taking a sip before sitting down opposite him.
"I guess I didn't expect you to come to my house," she said finally.
Sark smirked, feeling smug for his ability to keep her on her toes still. But he let it pass. "Well?" he asked, instead, tasting the wine. "I'm here. Talk."
Sydney hesitated, no amount of practice and anticipation had prepared her for this. What could she say? How was she gong to explain? She took another sip of wine, suddenly wishing it was something stronger because she had a feeling she might need it to get through this conversation.
Sark waited, not exactly patiently, but trying to appear so. He still couldn't believe he'd come.
"I...er...I'm-" Sydney stumbled over her words. Nothing sounded right. She sighed. "This is awkward."
He merely raised an eyebrow. Awkward was an understatement.
"I mean, before I went missing, this whole thing would never even enter my mind. You know, me looking you up and you sitting my living room, drinking wine," she explained, not meeting his gaze, which she could feel burning her. "Nor after I came back." She chanced a quick look at his face in time to catch his rolling eyes. "And then recently I started remembering and there you were, talking to me as if we worked together, as if we didn't hate each other..." Sydney trailed off, knowing that if she looked at him then she'd find a pointed expression in his eyes; one reminding her that he'd never really hated her. Or maybe that was before and he did hate her now...
Sark knew she had remembered; the fact that she'd known how to contact him alone was proof of it. But he didn't know how much or how well.
Sydney went on, still avoiding his eyes. "Those first memories were just like pictures in motion, like they belonged to someone else. I didn't feel connected to them in any way, you know."
Sark was listening intently in spite of himself, cursing himself for being so interested in what she had to say. But he tried his best not to show any emotion.
"And then... Then..." she hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to just come out and say it. Open herself up like that.
'Then what?' Sark asked inwardly, eagerly. 'What happened?' And then he wanted to slap himself. 'Oh for fuck's sake! You were there, you idiot! You know what happened!' But he couldn't help that he was dying to know what she was finding so difficult to say.
Suddenly Sydney seemed to make a decision and she met his gaze finally. Some of her hesitancy and nervousness melting away. She couldn't see the Sark she remembered in the man sitting before her, this one looked like the cold detached operative she'd encountered in the field so many times, but Sydney knew he was in there somewhere. She'd never beat around the bush with him before, whether enemy or ally, this wasn't the time to start.
"Okay, I know that opening up is not wise in this world of ours. Your common spy wouldn't give away anything related to their emotions because it leaves you vulnerable and it gives people power over you, but," she crooked a half-smile at him, relying on that sense of familiarity that her ever growing memories gave her, "you already know I'm not your average spy, and my emotions are always all over the place, so..." she cleared her throat, summoning the courage and finding it really hard because he was just sitting there, not moving a muscle, with his eyes fixed on her but not showing anything. But she'd come this far, no sense in holding back now.
"Gradually, those memories became mine, I felt what I was feeling then. And there I was, in your apartment, sitting in your couch, familiar with the place and comfortable in your presence... us getting along and annoying each other... it was nice having you to... I don't know. You were like a friend of sorts... more or less..." she snorted at herself, she wasn't making much sense. "The thing is, er, I haven't remembered everything yet. I don't know how, when, or why I did what I did... in the end... Maybe that particular memory is not coming back because I feel like an ass about it... I don't know. But I'm really, really sorry it happened. I wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
Sark couldn't help the flash of disappointment from showing on his face. He'd been really looking forward to finally knowing why she'd set him up. A part of him was thinking, 'How convenient...' But Sark could still read her face like a book and he believed her when she said she didn't remember.
He finished his wine and reached for the bottle to refill his glass, not saying anything, but he caught Sydney's minute flinch and her muscles tensing, ready for flight.
Sydney followed his movements carefully, trying to read his next move from his body since his face was so guarded. When he just leaned back on the couch with the glass in his hand she relaxed again. She let him savour the wine a moment longer before speaking again.
"Given that you haven't drawn your weapon and shot me yet..." she trailed off and saw the smirk he couldn't hold back, "I'm going to go ahead and tell you the second reason why I contacted you."
Sark gave her a speculative look and, just to spite her, shifted positions on the couch, showing the shoulder holster briefly, watching Sydney's face. The fact that she rolled her eyes instead of putting on her game face was reminiscent of their time together and it put him at ease. When he realized, he narrowed his eyes in displeasure. Damn her.
Sydney smiled inwardly, his blank look was disappearing by the second. "Nadia's been visiting Katya Derevko in prison," she started, knowing that Sark liked to have all the background on any situation. "She wanted to know about our mother and no one else wanted to talk to her about it. The last visit, Nadia brought Katya some chocolate. Katya asked for it. But as soon as she tried it she got sick. Katya's allergic to chocolate. Before she lost consciousness Katya told Nadia to tell me that that was how far she was willing to go to get me to see her. So I went."
Sark had gone back to listening almost indifferently. He was aware that he hadn't said a word since she'd sat down and started talking. In all the times he'd imagined this conversation taking place he'd never been this quiet. Of course, in his mind Sydney always remembered what he wanted to know. The possibility of Sydney just apologizing, not even knowing what she was apologizing for, had never occurred to him.
The silent treatment, so to speak, seemed to work in his favour anyway. He'd never been one to keep his quiet for long and it was unnerving Sydney. And he wasn't sure where she was going with this yet.
"Katya told me that I need to find Yelena Derevko," Sydney said suddenly when Sark didn't speak. If he was surprised by her words he didn't show it. "She said my mother had something in her possession that was meant for me."
Another pause. Still nothing from him.
"And when she died-" Sydney faltered, her conflicted emotions almost chocking her, "it went to Yelena because Katya was in prison. She insisted that I need to get it, whatever 'it' is, that I can't let it fall into the wrong hands."
Sark's mind was racing, he'd forgotten for a moment Sydney didn't know Irina was alive, which meant she still had whatever it was Sydney was supposed to get.
"I need your help, Sark. I wouldn't know where to start looking for her. I know nothing about my mother or her family... It's always been this big secret... I'll never find her on my own."
'Unbelievable!' Of all the things he'd imagined when he read her card, 'I'm sorry' followed by 'I need your help' was the last thing he could have thought. And what the hell made her think he'd want to help her? Sark could honestly say that Sydney had thrown him for a loop. 'Just unbelievable!'
"If I helped you," Sark spoke suddenly. "If I find Yelena, what makes you think I'll give it to you? Why would you trust me with this?"
Sydney opened her mouth then closed it again, hesitating. There was no going back now, there hadn't been from the moment she sent that card.
"I want it back," she said simply.
"You want what back?" Sark asked perplexed.
"What we had... You know what I want, Sark."
"And how do you plan to get it back, Sydney?" he demanded coldly. "How do you expect me to ever trust you again?"
"There's no one here to arrest you, is there?" She opened her arms wide to take in her apartment. "There's been no raid on the Milan apartment, or the Rome house. I haven't told anyone what I've remembered. I never told Kendall I worked with you, and I haven't told anyone now either."
They stayed silent for a few minutes. Sark deliberating on her words; Sydney waiting him out.
Finally, Sark rose from the couch and gave her a non-committal look. Sydney looked up at him but remained seated.
"I'll think about it."
Sydney watched him disappear through the kitchen and heard the back door close. She sighed exasperatedly. 'I'll think about it?! What the hell's that?' Sydney hadn't expected that. A flat out 'no' or an argument about the past... anything but this collected, ambiguous attitude of his. Didn't he hear her say it was important? How long was he going to 'think' about it? And then what? He'd call? He'd just appear in her apartment whenever he felt like it?
Did he have to be so... Sark?
Sark walked to his car and got in. He hesitated to start the engine.
Shaking his head he reached into his pocket and pulled his phone. He dialled the number and waited. After two rings, her voice came on.
"Yes?"
"I'll do it," he said into the phone and hung up.
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