Sydney felt good.
She could've used a little more sleep last night - which was to say, any sleep at all - and a little less soul-crushing disillusionment. Also fewer exploding doomsday devices - that would've been nice.
But she'd rescued her parents, helped out Emily and stopped the destruction of the world, and she didn't even think it was noon yet. All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.
They were all at the foot of Mt. Sebaccio, still alone, at least for the time being. Her father had put in a call to the CIA for a strike team; she didn't doubt that the team would ensure that the pieces remaining were ruined, not restored. Within an hour, every bit of Rambaldi machinery within Mt. Sebaccio would be reduced to smoking rubble, never to be reassembled again.
Sloane sat nearby, his face still bruised and bleeding from the damage her father had inflicted before Sydney had pulled him back, for Emily's sake. His two guards had surrendered their weapons at Sloane's orders and were now bound back-to-back, glaring malevolently at her family. They still believe they're serving the United States, Sydney thought, with a pang halfway between sympathy and guilt.
"When you destroyed The Telling, you destroyed the work of a lifetime," Sloane said. "Of two lifetimes. Every miracle we could have created -"
Sydney shook her head. "Nobody needs that kind of power. Nobody gets to make that kind of choice."
"Rambaldi created that power for a reason."
"And he put that power in my hands. Not yours, not anybody else's." Sydney dabbed some blood from a scrape on his forehead. "You said it yourself: It was my decision to make. And I've made it."
He closed his eyes. "That much I can't deny."
"Stop talking to my daughter." Her father was glaring at Sloane, clearly wishing he could hit him at least one more time. "You had your chance to twist her mind. It's over. From now on, you can play your mind-games on your cellmates."
"No." It was Emily who spoke - her voice more forceful than Sydney had ever heard it. Her parents turned to stare at Emily; Sloane half-lifted his head, still unable to meet his wife's eyes. "I'm leaving, and my husband is leaving with me."
"Since when did this become your decision to make?" her father said.
"Since I gave Sydney the security failsafe to rescue you and Irina, told all of you where The Telling was located and then prevented the two of you from falling to your deaths when it was destroyed." Emily folded her arms.
To Sydney's amazement, her father actually looked abashed. "What you've done for us - I can't repay you. But Emily, this man -"
"I know, all right? I know." Emily ran one hand through her sweat-damp curls. "But among other things, I found out today that a world was destroyed because of me. Forgive me if I can't destroy my husband, too."
Her father grimaced. "I'm sorry. But I can't just let him go."
"Yes, you can." Her mother turned toward them, acknowledging them all for almost the first time since they'd emerged from Mt. Sebaccio. Her voice sent chills down Sydney's spine as she said, "I don't like owing debts, and I don't intend to owe one to Mrs. Sloane. As for you, Arvin - we'll meet again. And when we do? The debt we settle will be the one you owe me."
Should she allow her mother to do this? After a moment, Sydney decided that she should. Sloane's betrayal and deceit still stung, but Emily's support and help were undeniable.
Besides, Sydney thought: The first time he had a chance at ultimate power - he used it to do something good. That's not what a lot of people would do. It counts for something.
For how much, Sydney couldn't say, but she felt certain this much was true.
"Go," she said. "Emily, take him and go. Hurry before we change our minds." Her father clearly wanted to protest further, but he didn't. Sydney hugged Emily tightly, shivering as she remembered the danger Emily had been in only a few hours before. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know my own husband. I don't even know if I can die." Emily's eyes closed against the brilliant morning sun, and Sydney could see the lines at the corner of her mouth. "I don't guess I know anything, much less if I'm okay."
"Thank you. You helped me, and you didn't have to."
"Yes, I did." Emily touched Sydney's cheek and gave her a faint smile; Sydney was relieved to see it.
Sloane stepped closer, and Sydney wondered when this man would take a hint. "Goodbye, Mr. Sloane."
"I don't suppose you'll want to see me again for a very long time. But we will see each other again someday, Sydney. I know that with as deep a certainty as anything I've known in my life."
"The only thing I need from you - ever again - is the answer to one question." When he nodded, she continued, "You suggested my American name. I'm guessing that's because I was named Sydney in the former reality. I was wondering - why did my parents name me that in the first place? I'd like to know the real reason."
"Your parents couldn't agree on a name for a girl. Not ever. Finally, when you were five days old, I suggested Sydney." Sloane shrugged. "That's always been my contribution. Whatever else you may say about me, I always - always - knew your name."
Sydney couldn't reply to that. Sloane half-smiled at her, then went to the rental car with his wife. Her family stood there and watched them go until the car was just a faint line of dust.
"How long before the CIA arrives?" her mother said.
"Any second," her father replied.
"Then that's my cue to go. If you don't mind, I'll take the Jeep; the agency can transport you out."
"Mama?" At the thought of her mother leaving again - going away, where Sydney couldn't find her anymore - she felt an overpowering panic. Her father looked alarmed too, which was weird. How could she leave now, when Sydney was only beginning to understand her? "Where are you going?"
"My days at SD-6 are over. So are my years of chasing Rambaldi." She smiled at Sydney, a lopsided, melancholy grin. "I don't know where I go from here, so I'm going to take some time to figure it out. And I'm not going to do it under arrest by the CIA."
Sydney hurried to her mother's side and took her hands. "Mama - The Telling - I know what you wanted me to do, but I had to -"
"I understand, malishka, better than you know. I'm not leaving because I'm angry at you. Never think that." She cocked her head as she studied her daughter's face. "And I'm not leaving your life. I'll be in touch, when the time's right."
Her father - who'd come up behind her when Sydney wasn't looking - said, "There's no rush. I could buy you some time with the agency. And we've had an - intense - few hours. You don't have to make any big changes right now."
"Don't I?" It was so strange, to see her mother smiling at her father. "It seems like the day for it, to me."
Sydney hugged her mother fiercely, feeling her heartbeat against her own chest, and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to well up. "I love you," she whispered. "That day you found me again - that was the best day of my life."
"Mine too."
"Don't kill Sloane. Not today, anyway."
"If you insist." Her mother's lips brushed her forehead. "We'll be together again, Sydney. I promise you that. And I love you too."
Then her mother stepped toward her father, and Sydney braced herself for one last round of their arguing. It was always difficult to hear, and at this moment, heartsore and uneasy, she wasn't sure how she'd take it.
But her father said only, "Are you sure?"
"Very sure. We're free of the lies at last, Jack. Everything that follows - that's the truth. And that's what I want."
What did that mean? Sydney wasn't sure, and she didn't have time to ask herself, because her parents were leaning toward each other, just like two people who were going to kiss, which was crazy because -
--and they're kissing, she thought.
This wasn't just a peck goodbye, either, but a real, deep kiss, so long and so passionate that Sydney felt her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment. She ducked her head, trying to give them the privacy they apparently didn't think they needed. Weren't parents supposed to have some shame?
Her mother touched her father's face with one hand, then stepped away. She walked to the Jeep and drove off without looking back.
**
"Okay, Syd, for the record?" Francie's indignation was obvious, even over the cell phone. "If the bank calls you in for an all-nighter, it should end when night ends. If your all-nighter lasts another whole day, that's not an all-nighter anymore. That's jail."
Sydney laughed so loudly that her father turned from the driver's seat to glance at her. In the rear-view mirror of the car the CIA had provided, Sydney could see black smoke rising from what had been Mt. Sebaccio. "They're making it up to me. I get next week off." A week sounded about right.
"Score! This is so great. We can, like, go to the day spa, or drive down to San Diego. Hell, we can just sit on the couch and eat Ben 'n' Jerry's nonstop. I'm not too proud to suggest that."
"Some New York Super Fudge Chunk sounds great," Sydney sighed. "I mean, really great. Great as in, can you buy some so it's there when I get home?"
"Done."
What would she ever do without Francie? Sydney had had this thought dozens of time, but now - with the remains of The Telling smoldering behind her - it had a new resonance. "Francie, do you ever wonder how our lives could be different? If we made a couple of different choices, would it change everything? Or nothing?"
"You get philosophical when you're sleep-deprived. Oh, wait - hon, the cereal's in that cabinet. Over there." Over the phone, Will made a sound that was probably a yawn; so, he'd slept over again. Sydney smiled, eager to tease both of them about it later. "Well, sure. I mean, if I'd married Charlie, everything would be different. Instead of having the greatest boyfriend on the whole planet, I'd wondering where my cheatin'-ass husband was spending his nights."
What if she had stayed with Danny? Would they have gotten married? Sydney pushed the idea from her mind; there was no point in getting lost in regrets. "I guess I meant something even more drastic than that."
"More drastic than not getting married? Something really revolutionary?" Francie sounded serious for a moment, then started to laugh. "Like, if we'd started that girl band we dreamed up in eighth grade?"
"Oh, my God. What was the name again? Magic?"
"Do not forget the stupid loser spelling we came up with: M-A-J-E-K. Remember? Because calling ourselves 'Magic' alone was just not pathetic enough." Francie was laughing really hard now. "Hey, Will, Sydney wants to get our girl band going again. You want to join?"
Will called across the kitchen, "I'm Macho Spice!"
"Tell him Macho Spice is officially the only name worse than Majek," Sydney said. "Listen, I gotta go. But I'll be home this afternoon, okay? Then we'll have some serious crash-and-snack time."
"Sounds great. Love you."
"Love you too." But Francie had already hung up. It didn't matter; she could tell her when she got home.
Her father glanced over at her again. He obviously wanted to talk with her, but just as obviously didn't know where to begin. How long had it been since they'd been alone together without a mission staring them in the face? A long time - too long, Sydney realized, with a twinge of guilt. "Ah - is Francie okay?" he said.
"She's good. Great, even. She's dating Will now, you know."
"Oh. That's - that's good." Her father gamely tried to muster up some enthusiasm about Francie's love life. "And good for Will."
He was so bad at simple human conversation - but he was trying, trying so hard that it was both funny and painful to witness.
For a year now, Sydney had seen only the worst in her parents. They'd been difficult, angry with each other and touchy with her, saying truths she didn't want to hear, needing support she hadn't been able to provide. Instead of giving them her trust, she'd believed in Mr. Sloane, who said the right words but meant to manipulate her for his personal agenda. Sydney thought, despairingly: I'm getting a degree in literature, and I can't even recognize "King Lear" when it's happening to me.
"Dad - Mr. Sloane - I trusted him, and I never should have. I see that now." She studied her father's face carefully. "It must have hurt you so much, for me to believe in him instead of you and Mama."
"Don't blame yourself. I believed in him for a long time. If I'd seen through Sloane when I was your age, I could have saved you and your mother a lot of grief."
Did she dare ask him about this? Sydney hesitated, then realized that she'd spent the morning blowing up the most powerful machine on the planet, so worrying about what she dared to do was probably no longer the point. "Speaking of Mama, that was some kiss back there."
Her father didn't move a single muscle in his face, but his eyes darted away toward the horizon, as if searching for some rescue that didn't come. "Sydney - your mother and I - it's complicated."
"That much I know. But Dad - that kiss -"
"There's more to it than that." For a few minutes of silence, Sydney thought the subject was closed, but then he spoke again. "Your mother and I, we - we loved each other very deeply. The fact that I was sent to her as an operative didn't change the fact that I cared for her. That's why I married her, and why we had a family. I don't ever want you to doubt that."
Sydney had asked herself that question - if her father had sired her coldly, out of the need to bind her mother to him - too often in the past year. But she now knew she was telling the truth when she said, "I always understood that. Deep down - I always did."
"Good." He nodded, happy to have brought the conversation to a satisfactory close.
Oh, no, she thought. You're not getting off the hook that easily. "That was then. This is now. Whatever you guys had - it's not over."
"It's not that simple." Her father's lips were pressed together in a tight line as he steered the car back toward the main road. "In the life we led before, Sloane told us your mother deceived me in the same way I deceived her. We've never had an honest life together, not in this reality -- or any reality. The way Sloane put it - he said we were born to betray each other."
"Let me get this straight," Sydney said. "You're going to start listening to Sloane NOW?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, and excuse my language, if you're going to take advice from anybody, it shouldn't be the guy who's spent the last thirty years playing a mindfuck on you." Her father gave her the look of a man who does not like to hear his daughter say "fuck," but Sydney didn't care. "What does Sloane know about it? He was trying to manipulate and use you both. Of course he's going to tell you not to stick together; the last thing he needs is for you to be on the same side."
"True. But -"
"But nothing. I was the woman in the Rambaldi prophecy, right? That means, no matter what, I was going to be born. So you and Mama were meant to be together, at least for a while. That's your destiny. Not whatever Sloane unloaded on you."
Her father considered that in silence for a long time. "That doesn't change the fact that my - relationship - with Irina isn't the same as it was. And it never can be again."
"I'm not naïve. I know it's not going to be easy, and it might not work out. It's just - if you care about each other, you shouldn't give up. Maybe Mama feels the same way."
"I think if she did, she would have said so." As soon as he'd said it, he rolled his eyes skyward. "Then again, she's your mother, who never says anything reliable if she has a chance to make you guess instead."
No matter how uncertain it might all be, Sydney decided, it was nice to think that there was even a chance of her parents reuniting. Well, weird too. But mostly nice. "Don't go looking for her yet. First I need your help with something."
"Anything."
She took a deep breath. "In a week and a half, I'm going back to work as an agent for the CIA."
"Absolutely not." His face was set. "Sydney, you have a chance to get out of this life. You have no idea what a gift that is. I suggest you take it."
"I like this life. This job - I was born to do this, Dad. You know it's true."
Grudgingly, he said, "You're as skilled an agent as I've ever seen. You'd be an asset. But this life - right now it seems exciting and glamorous. Even fun. But it doesn't stay like that forever. I know that better than anyone."
"SD-6 has to be destroyed. The good people inside - Marshall, and Dixon, all of them - we have to find ways to get them out. I spent a year of my life working for the bad guys; I think I owe the good guys at least as much of my time."
"As of tonight, Marshall and Dixon will believe that you've left the agency, possibly even that you've gone rogue. Dozens or even hundreds of operatives in the world already know your face and name, and all Arvin Sloane's fatherly pretensions won't preserve your cover if the Alliance is determined to destroy it."
"I know the risks." Sydney took a deep breath. "Good thing I'll have a senior CIA officer backing me up the whole way."
"Sydney -"
"I can do it, Dad. But I can't do it alone."
After a longer silence, he said, "I won't encourage you in this. But I won't prevent it. Take some time; consider your options. When you make your decision, if it's necessary, let me know and I'll connect you with the right people at the CIA."
Sydney knew that she'd never been given a stronger vote of confidence - or frightened her father more. "Thank you. I know it was hard for you to say that. And -- I understand hard decisions better than I did before. What I'm saying is - when you told me about Mama, and your assignment, I said some harsh things to you."
"I deserved them."
"Not all of them. And the others - Dad, I forgive you."
He didn't even meet her eyes. "I hope you know how much I love you."
Shyly, she slipped her hand into his. "We can go back to the Jade Dragon soon, maybe."
On his face, she could see the faint beginnings of a smile. "I'd like that."
**
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