DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Alias or its characters. It is the property of ABC, Touchstone and Bad Robot Productions.
SUMMARY: Carrying the weight of three generations...

i11th/i in the iCry of Orphans/i series
RATED PG-13
GENRE: Angst! Angst! And more angst! Did I mention Angst?
SPOILERS: None. This is a Future-Fic
DISTRIBUTION: I'd rather this is not distributed anywhere without my permission. I'll put it where I want it. But you're still welcome to contact me and try to convince me that my story should be in your fine archive.

MOTHER OF ORPHANS

By Aliasscape
Copyright 2005

She could hear music.

Praeludium in C by Bach.

She continued around the corridor and paused in the doorway of the conservatory. The sun was setting in the windows and she had to squint slightly to see the child sitting at the white, baby grand piano, her fingers dancing across the keys.

Irina watched her a moment, then motioned to the passing maid. "Anything today?" she asked quietly.

The maid glanced at the child, frowned and shook her head.

Irina waved her hand, dismissing the maid and quietly entered the conservatory. She crossed the room soundlessly and couldn't help but smile. It was likely the most at peace the child had been since she arrived.

Irina had kept a close eye on her. Taryn had been quiet, but polite. She hadn't shown much interest in doing anything. She had taken to exploring the unrestricted parts of the compound but had shown no interest in exploring the grounds. Her appetite was nonexistent, and Irina was certain she heard the girl awaken several times throughout the night. She knew the child was far from comfortable in the unfamiliar place, surrounded by people she didn't know. It wasn't the ideal situation for Taryn to be trying to make her recovery, but Irina did her best to try and make the girl feel as safe as possible.

But she had no delusions that this was anything but a temporary opportunity to finally get a close look at her eldest granddaughter. She doubted it would be more than a week before Taryn would be returned to her life in LA, oblivious that she had ever met her grandmother.

Still, Irina had tried to be visible and available in case Taryn had any questions or needed to talk. But she couldn't help but study the child whenever she had the chance. Without obvious staring, she still took note. The eyes. The nose. The hair. All Sydney's.

Irina moved to stand just beside the piano. Even the hands she now held with fingers curved over the keys of the piano. They were Sydney's hands.

Taryn stopped playing abruptly, seeming startled. She turned and glanced up.

"How long have you been playing?" Irina questioned, quietly.

"Two years," Taryn answered, staring at the keys.

"You've taken lessons."

Taryn nodded. "At my Grandpa Jack's house."

Irina smiled. "Are you close with your grandfather?"

Taryn nodded again. "I go to his house after school sometimes. I spend the night when my dad goes out of town for work."

"You must miss your father a great deal when he's away."

Taryn shrugged. "I'm used to it. And it's not as much as it used to be. I like spending time with my grandpa. I have a room at his house, so it's almost like being at home. Sometimes, better."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "What do you two like to talk about?"

Taryn lightly stroked the piano keys, not looking at her. "Everything. My lessons, my soccer games, school. And he tells me stories."

"Stories?"

"About my mom. He's the only one that does. My mom left when I was a baby, and my dad doesn't like to talk about her. He hates it when I ask." She let her hands slide from the keys and rested them in her lap. "He didn't want me to play piano, because she did." Taryn turned around on the piano bench. "He was really mad Grandpa let me have the lessons."

Irina gave her a searching stare. "What's your father like when he's angry?"

The girl slid off the piano bench and walked over to the bookshelf against the wall. She began browsing the music books. "He yells a lot."

Irina turned to face the bookshelf, watching the girl. "At you?"

Taryn pulled out a book and started to flip through it. "Yeah." She sat down in the white Queen Anne's chair beside the bookshelf.

Irina moved to the identical chair on the opposite side of the bookshelf. "How does that make you feel?"

Taryn looked up for the first time, her face expressionless. "Like running away." Then, her face had tightened and she'd quickly looked down again.

But Irina continued to watch the little girl. The lost look in her eyes was so familiar.

And it was wrong that the eyes of a ten-year old could hold that much pain.

"How is she?"

"She seems…despondent."

As Sark had taken the blindfold off Sydney, Irina had been able to see that for herself. Tears had welled up in daughter's eyes, and she forced out only one word.

"Mom."

Irina had wanted to close the space between them and embrace her immediately, but she had remained two feet away, looking at her expectantly. She hadn't seen her daughter in almost five years. Why had she suddenly sought her out?

"I didn't know where else to go. I didn't have anyone else to go to…" She looked down and clasped her hands together trying to hide how shaky she was. "I left Vaughn. I left… everything. I couldn't stay there anymore. I couldn't-I couldn't be her mother." Her last word disappeared into a whisper.

Of all the reasons Irina had expected her daughter to give, that was one she hadn't expected.

And the one that pained her the most.

Despite the lack of contact she'd had with Sydney, she'd been well aware of her daughter's marriage to Vaughn. She'd been expecting it. And she was relieved that her daughter had been able to finally get out of the spy life.

It was well past time.

But tears sprang to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Sydney, who sobbed into her shoulder. The pain of having abandoned a child was something she had never wanted her daughter to feel. When she'd finally stepped back, she'd seen the lost look in Sydney's eyes. And pain. The pain of failure.

Irina had felt a sense of responsibility. iShe/i was the one who'd failed. Who'd left her daughter without giving her the mothering she'd needed to have the confidence to be a mother herself.

She could have held onto Sydney forever. She wanted to take back the thirty years of deceptions and lies and betrayals and insecurities.

If only holding her could have been enough to take back thirty years of pain.

She known then there was no way she could turn her daughter away.

"Sydney, you can stay here as long as you like."

She'd said the words without a second thought to what anyone else was going to think.

"If she weren't my daughter, I doubt she'd even be here to ask me for help. But she is. And she's exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I won't turn her away."

"Because she needs your help or because you need for her to give you another chance?"

She'd all but reprimanded Sark for his impertinence. Not because he was wrong.

He wasn't wrong.

She couldn't spend every moment watching Sydney, but it would have been foolish not to have someone keeping an eye on her. She had still checked in on her daily. She'd truly wanted to know if there was anything more Sydney had needed to be comfortable, but more than anything, she couldn't help but take advantage of for once having the option to see her daughter every day. She would study her and tried to make sure she was available if Sydney had any concerns or questions. But she wasn't going to interrogate her.

She could tell, from the faraway look in Sydney's eyes and the way she could barely eat a meal, her daughter was in a fragile state. She didn't want to push and risk her withdrawing even more.

"Did you ever...wish I had never been born?"

Irina moved to sit right beside her daughter on the bed. She gave her a searching stare, shocked that Sydney could even ask the question.

"Sydney...no. Never."

Sydney started to shake her head, her chin quivering. "But in Taipei, you said--"

"I said those things for the same reason I shot you. To continue my charade of loyalty to Cuvee. But I never meant a word. I love you, Sydney. I have since the day you were born."

Sydney had erupted into tears. Irina had reached for her, wanting to hold her and comfort her, but Sydney wouldn't let her. Perhaps Sydney thought she didn't deserve it somehow.

And maybe they just weren't there yet.

Sydney came out of room more often, but Irina could tell she was just going through the motions of living at the compound. She'd join Sydney in the library or the courtyard. Sometimes she would only sit with her. Sometimes she would talk to her. But it seemed to make no difference. Her daughter's thoughts were someplace faraway.

And she couldn't reach her.

She could only hope that Sydney would choose to talk to her when she was ready.

Sark suspected that Sydney had ulterior motives. Irina didn't, but she knew her own judgment could be faulty and allowed him to conduct whatever investigations he needed to prove it to himself.

"The CIA is on a search for her. They don't seem to have any idea where to look. They're looking everywhere. She claims she didn't tell anyone where she was going but—"

Irina scanned the tracking reports. "And this seems to confirm that."

"It could be all part of very elaborate ruse."

She smiled. "You give the CIA too much credit."

He frowned.

"You searched the belongings she packed to bring here. You've watched her every day. You've searched her room, her computer. Have you found anything that suggests she has been deceiving us?"

"No," he admitted. "But then why won't she tell us why she's here?"

Irina sighed and got up from the desk in her study. She looked out the window and watched Sydney, sitting on the bench in the courtyard. "Maybe she doesn't know why she's here."

And maybe she needed to be some place where she felt safe.

Irina realized maybe she should have tried harder. Pushed her to explain. Pushed her to feel something. Answered more questions she never asked. Told her everyday how much she loved her.

And watched her more closely.

"Jessa, get Irina now! And call Dr. Andreas. Tell her to come immediately!"

She'd heard Sark's shout and been headed towards the stairwell before Jessa had come to her.

The world had frozen over. Time slowed to a halt. She had made her way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Somehow she'd known what she would see and yet she told herself the whole walk there that everything would be fine.

Time resumed. She moved towards the bed. And the sights in the room slammed into her.

Red towels. Red puddles. Red hands. Red wrists.

Red! Red! Red! Red!

Her legs felt weak. Red.Red.Red.Red. Her stomach turned over. Redredredred. She wanted to scream. Redredredred. Her eyes filled with tears. Redredredred.

Time sped up.

Sark was moving frantically around Sydney. Her daughter. Her baby. He was trying to wrap her arms with the towels. He looked up at her with regret in his eyes. And she moved forward to help him, taking an arm and wrapping it herself, trying not to look at the deep wounds.

She knew she should try to assess the damage but she couldn't. She raised Sydney's hands above her head. Knowing that what was she should do. Unable to remember why.

Sydney's eyes were fluttering. She was losing consciousness.

She was losing her. "Sydney!"

Sydney's eyes opened again momentarily then started to close again.

"SYDNEY!"

Maybe she called her name once more. Maybe she called it a thousand times.

But her eyes didn't open again.

In her head, Irina told her daughter she couldn't die. That as her mother she forbid it. And then she had apologized a thousand times, for not being the mother she should have been. And she had told her she loved her a thousand more, willing that she know that, lest she never have the chance to tell her ever again.

Redredredredred.

Her tears joined the puddle on the floor.

"Irina, you can let go now."

Dr. Andreas and her assistants moved Sydney to the bed to begin attending to her.

"It'd be best if you wait outside," the doctor said, seriously.

Irina stared past the doctor. Her eyes still fixed on Sydney. How had she let this happen?

"She's my daughter," Irina whispered, shakily.

"And I'm going to take good care of her."

Irina swallowed as she let Sark guide her from the room. That was what she was supposed to have done. Taken care of her. Kept her safe. Kept her from being hurt. Kept her from hurting herself. What had happened? What had driven her to this?

She sank into the chair in her bedroom, dizzy. Her questions spun around in her head. A million questions. And just one.

"Why?"

She looked at Sark, searchingly. He'd spent every moment watching her. He'd searched her belongings. Did he know anything she didn't? Had he seen something she missed? His eyes lowered and she knew he didn't have any answers.

She dropped her own eyes, suddenly catching sight of her hands.

Redredredred.

It was almost fitting.

The room blurred out of focus. She didn't know how long she sat there, but when she returned to her senses, Sark was taking care of a basin of water and her hands were clean. She thanked him and he left. She finally got the strength to get out of the chair, take a shower and change into clean clothes as well.

She had gone down to the sitting room, where she had a clear view of Sydney's bedroom door, to await news from the doctor. She reviewed a folder of CIA tracking reports, looking to see if the pattern of their search revealed they had any idea how unstable Sydney was.

Sark had joined her by the time Dr. Andreas did come out of the room. Irina felt herself stiffen in her chair. The doctor looked weary.

"She's all right. We've stitched up her cuts and bandaged over them. Her heart rate and blood pressure are coming back up. I'd like to leave one my assistants here tonight to keep an eye on her. And I'll come back to check her progress in the morning. She did lose a lot of blood. She's going to be pretty weak for awhile. She needs to remain supervised at all times. She's resting comfortably now, but when she wakes up she might try to tear out her stitches." The doctor paused and turned to Irina. "I need to talk to you, alone. Just for a minute."

Irina had led the way into her study and closed the door behind them.

"How long has your daughter been staying here?"

Irina sat down at her desk. "A little over three weeks."

The doctor nodded. "Did she happen to make any special announcements when she arrived?"

Irina raised an eyebrow. "Rosalind, what is it?"

"Your daughter's pregnant, Irina."

She stared at the doctor. "You're certain?"

"We've run the blood test twice. I've done my best to treat her without anything that could have harmful effects on the baby. But when I come back in the morning, I'll definitely need to run more tests." The doctor sighed. "I don't know if she knows or not, but if she does and she did this anyway, then she's obviously not in any condition to make any decisions about this pregnancy. So, I thought you should know."

"Is she awake?"

"No, not yet. She's going to be out of it for awhile. Which is probably for the best. She at least won't be able to fight being treated."

They had gone up to see Sydney after that. Irina took a deep breath when she entered the darkened bedroom. She sat down in a chair right beside the bed. Sydney seemed to be resting peacefully. But her face was noticeably pale. She didn't look like herself.

Irina lifted her daughter's arms carefully to examine the bandages. The beeping sound of the machine monitoring Sydney's heart rate was too loud. She wanted to hold her, but knew she shouldn't move her and settled for just stroking her hair. She wanted Sydney to know that she wasn't alone.

And she wanted answers.

Irina didn't move from the spot for hours, days. Meals and reports were brought to her. Sydney was in and out of consciousness and maybe it had truly made little difference to her, but Irina didn't want Sydney to wake up and not see her there.

And she didn't want to not be there if anything happened.

It was like having a newborn in the house. She needed to watch her sleep if only to know she was breathing. She coaxed her to eat. And she contemplated what had really brought Sydney to her.

She had studied the photographs Sydney had displayed on her dresser. Her daughter's life in pictures. Her friends. Her wedding. And a beautiful baby girl. A grandchild Irina realized she didn't even know the name of. A seemingly wonderful and perfect life, her daughter had abandoned and—evident by the cuts in her arms—didn't seem to think she could ever return to.

Several times, Irina had been tempted to pick up the phone and call Jack. But somehow she knew he wouldn't have any answers. Sydney came to her. Jack and Sydney had their differences, but he was still her father. If she could have talked to him about it, she would have. And he would have done everything in his power to help her.

After three days, Sydney was finally well enough to sit up and Irina had known that it was time to ask questions.

Irina moved to her chair beside the bed and looked down at Sydney's bandages. "Sydney, when you did this, did you know?"

Sydney gave Irina a perplexed look. "Know?"

"That you were pregnant?"

The look on her daughter's face mutated from confusion to disbelief to horror. Irina was relieved to realize that Sydney definitely hadn't known. Her suicide attempt at least hadn't been about that. But her relief was short-lived. Sydney had broken down into sobs and even tried to pull out her IV. But even when she calmed, her feelings about it were difficult to hear. It was quickly apparently that Sydney wanted nothing more to the make the make the pregnancy stop and the baby disappear.

"I can't be its mother. I can't be a mother."

Irina wasn't going to let that be true.

"I've gone over everything with your daughter and how she can best manage her health and diet to have a successful pregnant. She doesn't seem interested." Rosalind held out a bottle of vitamins.

Irina took it. "I'll see that she takes them."

She lumped Sydney's lack of concern for the baby into Sydney's lack of concern for herself and decided to take over caring for both. She made sure the doctor still did Sydney's regular exams and that once Sydney was up around that she was still always supervised. And she kept hoping that Sydney, her Sydney would somehow return to her, if only long enough to explain what had happened.

She checked in on her sleeping often, even though it was difficult watching her toss and turn in her sleep, her face contorting as though she was either in fear or in pain. But it was a night that she slept walk and talked in her sleep that was the most revealing.

Irina had guided her back to bed and realized that despite her daughter's distressed state it may be the only opportunity to get some answers. The dreams that had Sydney so terrified had to be related to the reason she had left home.

Irina had to fight her own horror as she'd carefully questioned Sydney, who had seemed to be in a haze as she had recounted nearly smothering her own baby. Sydney had cried herself back to sleep. And Irina had to fight the urge to do the same. Even though Sydney hadn't killed her own child, she was going to live with the memory of almost doing so forever.

And she was going to carry the pain forever.

As Irina had covered Sydney with a blanket, she'd gone back to the pictures on the dresser. The baby. Taryn was her granddaughter. A granddaughter she had never met. A granddaughter she would perhaps never meet. And yet she had cursed her with the same fate as her own daughter. Taryn was motherless.

Logically, she knew there could be hundreds of factors that could have contributed to Sydney being unable to handle the pressures of motherhood. Irina remembered the sleepless nights, the times when she thought she might go insane if her baby didn't stop crying. It had been an adjustment to change her whole world to accommodate a new life. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but it still hadn't been easy. But she hadn't been there to explain any of that to Sydney. She would have liked to think she had been a good role model for the first six years of her daughter's life, but she knew it was a time period Sydney hardly remembered. What Sydney remembered was surely her thirty year absence. What Sydney remembered was being motherless. Being lost. Being alone.

Irina had looked at the picture again and realized that was now all her granddaughter would have to remember as well. And she'd wondered if there was anything she could possibly do to break the cycle.

As Sydney's pregnancy progressed, so did her turmoil. Sydney seemed to decide she wanted the baby to born, but she couldn't decide what should happen to it afterwards. Despite Sydney seeming comfortable leaving Vaughn with their first child, she didn't seem to want to give him their second one. She didn't have any interest in going back to him.

Irina wondered, or perhaps hoped that Sydney just didn't truly want to give up the baby as she'd felt she had to give up Taryn no matter how much she claimed otherwise. But Irina had to consider that there was something about Vaughn, Sydney either purposely wasn't telling her or couldn't put into words. Especially when Sydney started considering adoption as an alternative to letting him raise his own child.

Sydney seemed to use exercise to work out her thoughts. She was on the trails and in the gym. Seeing her active had seemed like an improvement. Until one day, she disappeared on the trails. The guards had found her unconscious and having painful stomach spasms. The doctor had to be called.

Rosalind stepped back from Sydney's sleeping form. "Right now, it seems she may have overexerted herself." She gestured to her assistant who rolled the equipment from the room.

"Is she stable?" Irina questioned.

"They're both stable for now, but I'm not happy with her blood pressure or the baby's heart rate."

"Is there anything to be done?"

The doctor stared at Sydney, silently. "I'll run some more tests." She started towards the door.

"Rosalind," Irina said sharply. "I asked you to limit what you say to Sydney…not to me."

Rosalind sighed. "I can't help but wonder whether this exertion was an accident."

Irina's jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. "You believe this was a deliberate attempt to miscarry."

"She's shown little to no interest or concern in the health of her baby or what she can do to promote it." The doctor sighed. "I have to be honest. I think her emotional and mental health is having a negative impact. If you can't find a way to help her lower her stress level, she's risking complications."

Sydney had started to stir and the doctor made her exit. Sydney had made it clear she hadn't been trying to hurt the baby but she was still very upset over her inability to make a decision about what to do with it.

Irina looked at her sincerely. "Sydney, if you just carry this baby to term, I will take care of any arrangements that must be made about it afterwards."

Irina had meant what she said. Whether Sydney was worried about who would carry out her decision or simply making the decision, she was willing to do it. Though she hoped she wouldn't actually have to. Sydney had seemed to relax after that. She developed a healthy appetite and near normal sleep patterns. She took shorts visits away from the compound and into town.

The months began to pass and Irina took note of anything that might show Sydney starting to warm up to the idea of keeping the baby. She was certain she'd even seen motherly pride in her daughter's eyes when she felt the baby kicking. But the doctor still felt Sydney was disinterested during exams.

"After I ran my tests, I told her I could tell her the gender. She didn't even answer me."

"Did your tests reveal anything?"

"The baby's underweight, Irina. As depressed as Sydney was when she first arrived here, she likely wasn't eating properly during a crucial time, not to mention the effect of that much blood loss. And she's already having strong contractions with almost two whole months to go. I want her on bed rest. The best thing we can do for this baby now is make sure it doesn't come early."

"It'll be arranged," Irina assured.

The doctor turned to leave the office.

"Rosalind? What is the gender of the baby?"

Rosalind smiled momentarily. "A girl. That I'm at least certain about."

Irina had kept the information to herself, though looked for signs that Sydney might be interested to know. But Sydney never seemed to have any thoughts about the baby beyond its birth. She never contemplated names or brought up the subject herself. Even only a week before she was due, when Irina tried to question if Sydney had come to any decisions, the conversation only seemed to distress her.

Irina let it go. She had discreetly begun her own preparations.

"Everything you've ordered has arrived," the guard informed her. "Where do you want it?"

"Building 7."

The guard raised an eyebrow but nodded.

Sydney went into labor almost a whole week late. Irina had held her hand almost the entire seven hours and four minutes. The doctor and her assistants cleaned the baby off, weighed and measured her and then tried to offer her to Sydney.

Sydney had looked horrified. She wouldn't hold out her arms. She wouldn't even look at her new daughter.

Irina carefully took the screaming infant from the doctor, rocking her, trying to shush her. But she still couldn't help but look at Sydney. To try once more to get Sydney to acknowledge her own child.

"Sydney?"

Sydney swallowed. "You promised."

Irina looked down at the baby who was squirming and turning her head in response to her mother's voice. And it had taken everything she had not to cross the room and force the child into Sydney's arms. Force Sydney to look at the beautiful, little person she was pushing away.

"Do you want to choose a name?" Irina tried.

But Sydney was already fighting to maintain composure. Thrusting the crying baby into her arms when it was clearly the last thing she wanted, would only serve to distress Sydney further.

Sydney shook her head and turned away. "Just, take it."

And Irina had listened. She'd taken the child from the room and finally got her quiet as she headed down the stairs to another room where a nurse was waiting to do a more thorough exam. She watched the nurses with a scrutinizing eye. The doctor had joined them after only a few minutes.

"My other assistants are finishing up with Sydney," Rosalind said matter-of-factly, moving forward to help with the exam.

Irina suddenly pictured her daughter in that room alone and empty and had gone back up to check on her. She stayed until Sydney had cried herself to sleep, then gone back downstairs. Jessa and Sark had joined the nurses and were gathered around the baby.

"How's Sydney?" Sark inquired.

"She's sleeping now." Irina responded. "She's exhausted."

In so many ways.

Irina moved and took the baby, thankful she'd calmed again. The child's hair was wispy and dark, her eyes newborn blue. She yawned and when she started to close her mouth again Irina saw dimples.

Despite that this new little girl shared less of resemblance to Sydney than the baby in the pictures on Sydney's dresser, the dimples were a feature that reminded her of Sydney most. And from the pictures she'd seen, not even Taryn had dimples.

Irina felt tears forming in her eyes. This was her granddaughter.

Rosalind approached. "Almost everything looks good. But she's not breathing as well as I'd like. It'd best to get her in the incubator in the infirmary. And we'll see about getting her started eating there."

Irina reluctantly relinquished the child to the nurses again.

The nurse looked from the baby to Irina. "Is there something you'd like us to call her?"

Irina smiled thoughtfully. "Analise."

Graced. Because she was determined that this child be blessed with a good life.

Analise had to stay in the infirmary a week before Rosalind felt the baby was stable enough to be moved.

"She'll still require close monitoring. I don't know what arrangements the family you've found have made--"

"There's no family," Irina cut in, cuddling the child close. "She won't be moved from the compound."

"Irina, I saw the way Sydney rejected this baby. That, coupled with the detachment I observed throughout her whole pregnancy, I have to wonder if giving this child to Sydney would be putting her in physical danger."

"She won't be with Sydney," Irina answered simply. "But she's not leaving this compound." Irina smiled at the little girl.

The doctor gave her a questioning look. "Where will you keep her?"

"I have arranged for a nursery to be setup in building 7. The building is separated from the main grouping. For now, Sydney will remain unaware of her presence there."

Rosalind nodded, then looked curious. "Has Sydney asked about her...at all?"

Irina didn't look up. "No."

Sydney hadn't been willing to really talk about anything. But she was eating and not spending her days in bed. She seemed to be doing her best to move on without thinking about the baby. As if one serious cry was supposed to have resolved all her emotions about giving up her own child. Irina knew that wasn't true, but Sydney had made it clear she didn't want her mother hovering over her. So Irina had asked Sark to continue monitoring Sydney.

Irina had been preoccupied with Analise. She refused to leave the care of the child simply to nannies and nurses. She spent many nights in building 7, around for the 2 a.m. feedings and days playing and interacting with the baby. She wanted to be around to see the child reaching all the most important milestones. She did business that she had previously done in her office at the nursery. And she directly a security camera feed from the building to her office when she wasn't there.

Irina handed Analise to a nurse as she noted Sark coming into the nursery. He had a folder in hand.

"The reports from Prague," he announced.

Irina took the file and sat down in a rocking chair to scan it, making notes with a pen. When she glanced up, Sark was eyeing the baby curiously. Irina raised an eyebrow at him.

"She's growing."

"Unfortunately, not as much as she could be." Irina handed him back the folder and took Analise back from the nurse. "How's Sydney?"

"She's been working out in the gym lately. She still isn't very talkative."

The concerned look in his eyes told her she didn't have to tell him to keep an even closer eye on Sydney. It was only two weeks later that she had come into the nursery for a normal afternoon visit and found Sark already there, watching Analise sleep in her crib.

His hair was oddly wet, considering the time and that it hadn't rained that day. Irina approached quietly. She had a feeling he was watching the baby the sleep for the same reason she often did.

Sometimes there was a need to feel something was right in the world.

It was especially calming when something had gone wrong in the day. She didn't question him, knowing he'd tell her if it was important. He didn't ever mention anything, but his visits to the nursery were more frequent after that. She hadn't expected that from him, but she didn't discourage it. She liked knowing he would drop in to visit when she had to be away on business. Analise needed the consistent attention from familiar faces. She knew that at times when she should just be playing with her granddaughter she was either preoccupied with making sure the child ate enough and was gaining enough weight.

Perhaps that was the reason she hadn't realized how much Sydney still needed her attention. She'd been in the nursery when Sark came rushing into the building.

"Dr. Andreas is with Sydney. We had to call her…"

"What's happened?"

"There was a crash in her room. When I went in there...she was lying on the bed. She had a couple empty bottles of pills."

Irina had risen silently and placed Analise in his arms. She left the building and returned to the main complex. She wasn't able to go into the room until the doctor had finished treatment. And when she had, there was no calm in seeing Sydney once again so lifeless and fragile.

"She's going to be all right?" Irina questioned from her seat by the bed.

"Not if she keeps on like this," the doctor said with a frown. "Irina, it may be time to consider alternative courses of care. It's apparently difficult to keep her monitored here. I know of several reputable facilities."

Irina started to shake her head.

"She would have the best care. All the help she needs to deal with this depression."

Irina rubbed her daughter's hand gently. "I won't send her away. That's not what she needs."

Rosalind sighed. "Then, at least let me start her on an antidepressant."

"I will handle this."

"I know you want to help her, but maybe you can't. She's been here almost a year now. And I know you've been doing everything you can for her. But between her and the baby, you're exhausted, Irina."

She gave the doctor a cold stare and Rosalind sighed. The doctor exited the room quietly.

Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. There wasn't any excuse for any of what she'd let Sydney do to herself since she'd arrived. Irina had so empathized with her daughter's pain. There had been times, after she'd left Jack and Sydney, that she'd wanted nothing more than to die. That she'd thought it might be the only way for her to ever have peace.

If she had to have Sydney monitored every minute of the day, she'd do so. But the doctor was right about one thing, it had been a year. Though, she hadn't tried everything. She'd let Sydney alone. She'd let her wallow in her pain. But if Sydney was going to get better, she couldn't keep doing that. Sydney had to start thinking ahead to the life she could have beyond the life she'd left behind.

She had looked again at Sydney. This was to be the last time her daughter tried to commit suicide within the walls of her compound. That was the first thing she made clear when Sydney was lucid again. Irina hadn't attempted to hide how angry she was.

Or how scared she'd been.

Forcing Sydney back into low risk espionage had seemed like the best alternative to actually locking her up. Sydney had been caught off guard, but she'd done well. Irina made sure detailed reports of Sydney's behavior were given to her. She wasn't going to miss anything. And if there'd been any evidence the work was causing Sydney more distress than good, she would have put a stop to it. But it hadn't. Sydney had embraced the work, especially once she knew Sloane was involved again.

Irina tried to find a proper balance to the attention she gave Sydney and the attention she gave Analise and her work. But it wasn't easy. Sydney was doing better. But Analise was struggling.

"It's good that she's smiling and rolling over. And by your records, she's eating well, but she's still not gaining enough weight," Rosalind noted.

It was a mystery for several months before the doctor finally seemed to have a conclusion. During which Irina set up a routine for the nurses to follow of playtime, reading time of books in several languages, and time to play outside in the area nearby the building.

"All signs are pointing to a milk allergy. We'll change her diet and see if that helps."

It had seemed to help at first. The child finally started to gain enough weight. And because of it Irina had been able to spend more time at the main complex with Sydney. She had thought Sydney would have questioned her about the baby. Just curious to know where it was or what she'd done with it. Not immediately after but the more months that passed where Sydney hadn't even mentioned the child, she began to wonder.

Sydney's focus was clearly on Sloane. She requested to start going on assignments with Sark. She'd been attacked and defended herself. It was clear after that it was safe to let Sydney have full privileges as an agent in her employ. And it was both a joy and relief that her daughter finally seemed in touch with her emotions again.

Sydney stood up from the bed. "Mom?"

Irina turned to her expectantly.

Sydney crossed the room and embraced her. "I love you."

She hadn't been expecting it. She couldn't help the tears as she hugged her daughter back, she couldn't help the tears. She'd arranged an office for her the next day, hoping Sydney might express a desire to stay and work with her.

Three months passed quickly where she still very concerned with Analise's health and a minimal amount of information on Rambaldi. A security guard found her in the nursery one morning and informed her Sydney was making an unauthorized call. She allowed the call to go through and listened to only the beginning.

"Jack Bristow."

She'd heard the entire conversation, if it could be called that; Sydney hadn't said a word. Satisfied that Sydney was only reaching out to her father, she asked that the calls be recorded but she didn't listen to them. After the first call, she thought Sydney might start wanting to call others. But each time it was only Jack that Sydney called. Never Vaughn, as if she had no desire to have any contact with him ever again.

Sydney's avoidance of Vaughn made Irina never question her decision not to send Analise to her father. It gave her more reasons to keep the child than just her desire to keep her granddaughter closeby for herself and for Sydney.

The one-year old that had finally started to form words in both English and Russian. She was still petite and her complexion was pale. Her lips were a natural dark pink, her hair wavy, dark and thick. Her eye color had stayed blue a long time. After she turned a year old, the child's eyes seemed to change to green and brown as well, depending on her environment and her mood. With her health finally stable, she was a happy child, more easygoing than Irina ever recalled Sydney being. Old enough to get upset when Irina left her or get excited when she returned.

Or when Sark had dropped in for a visit after an injury had kept him away several weeks.

"Can I talk to you a moment?" he questioned, after greeting the child.

"About Sydney?"

"Is there a reason you haven't given her an office yet? The kitchen table hardly seems an adequate place to track Sloane."

"I won't force it on her. She has to choose to stay here."

"She has," Sark responded. "I asked her if she was leaving three months ago. She said she wasn't."

Sydney's reaction the office confirmed his words. And it had been her first hint that there was something developing between the two of them. They were often on missions together so her chances to observe them were limited. They didn't speak about it with her but it was easy to note Sydney wearing new jewelry, buying new clothes and them going out in the evenings. A night when Sydney had run off distressed and he'd brought her back calmed. She was glad he could be comforting to her, but she had to question the timing. Sydney had been lonely and in a state of questioning her identity. Irina wasn't sure it was her daughter's better judgment that made her start the relationship. But she had only taken one precaution regarding them.

Sark entered her study. "You wanted to see me?"

Irina nodded and gestured for him to sit. "There will be some changes in the way your missions are assigned."

He arched an eyebrow.

She looked him in the eye. "You and Sydney will not be going on missions together unless absolutely necessary."

He sat back in his chair. "Is this your way of saying you disapprove?"

"It's my way of saying I'm concerned that your relationship will be a distraction in the field," she responded.

"But you haven't told her this, have you?"

"If she has any concerns, she can talk me."

Sydney never had shown any notice or concern of the change. Something else seemed to be on her mind. But Irina noted Sydney refused to talk about it. She began taking the opportunity to escape the compound, going on vacations. And then Sloane had reemerged.

Something about the timing of it was very wrong. Sydney was clearly caught on a security camera in one of Sloane's facilities, and barely two weeks later, after spending over eight years hidden, Sloane was suddenly caught on a camera. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Not when she knew the man to have quite the unhealthy obsession with her daughter. And now he knew that she was back in the spy business. It was time to step up security measures at all her compounds.

But Sydney's own obsession with capturing Sloane seemed to be real problem. She'd nearly gotten herself killed in a fire trying to capture him. And then nearly blown up when she entered a building wired to explode. And she'd dismissed Irina's concerns as motherly over-protectiveness.

It wasn't being over protective when her daughter was repeatedly trying to get herself killed.

Though Sydney still seemed to draw even further away from her when she expressed her concerns. Sydney had bought a house in Australia, expressing a need to have a home of her own. Irina didn't fault her for that, but she knew Sydney wasn't talking to her.

Sydney disappeared from a mission at a bank and they had to accept she'd been taken by Sloane's men.

"What are your leads?"

"She made the drop. We have the disc. But nothing beyond the intel we had going in. There was no one left alive at the bank." Sergei sighed. "They must have needed her alive. They could killed have her and left her there otherwise."

Irina knew that. But it didn't make not knowing where her daughter was any easier. Teams were sent to investigate the smallest of leads. She had spent much of her time in building 7 with Analise, as if the child was the one in need of comfort. She'd made a decision to add some new pictures to the child's room.

It was after three days that a strange call had sent a retrieval team to Italy to find her. She'd been badly bruised, suffering from a concussion, withdrawal from drugs and various other injuries. She'd seemed both angry and guilty. And she barely talked about it. Irina had to send the guards out to drag her in from the rain one night. She'd seemed dazed as they tried to warm her up and get her dry.

"Something has been bothering her for weeks, perhaps months. Is she talking to you?" Irina questioned him as they watched Sydney shiver on the couch in the library.

"I've tried. She's barely sleeping, and when she does, she has nightmares. She's only told me she's afraid, but she hasn't explained of what."

Irina had Sydney monitored carefully after that. She was hardly eating. But finally, she did seem to sleep again. But she was thankful when Sydney approached her.

"When I was pregnant, you told me, you said that the baby was welcome here for as long as I needed. Did you mean it?"

Irina looked at her seriously. "Yes. Of course."

And she'd known, without hearing another word, what was on her daughter's mind. She'd thought Sydney would ask about Analise that night. But she hadn't. Sydney had gone away on a mission the next day. And then come into her study very late the next night.

Sydney swallowed and sat down across from her. There wasn't any way to say it except to just say it. "Mom, I want to know about my baby."

Her questions had been quiet, and careful.

"It's…it's okay, right?"

Analise was hardly an it. She was almost two years old, with an identity and personality of her own.

Sydney swallowed, tears filling her eyes but a small smile starting to form on her face. "Can I…can I see her?"

Irina's eyes glistened and she blinked once before responding, "I've been waiting for you to ask."

For almost two years. Waiting. Hoping. Wondering.

Sydney sniffled. "When?" she whispered.

"Tomorrow. Afternoon."

A part of her had wanted to take Sydney across the grounds to the building at the exact moment. But Analise was asleep. And she wanted Sydney to be able to meet her daughter, not just look at her. And she wanted both of them to be prepared for such a meeting.

Sydney sat back down, seeming surprised that her mother could get Analise there that soon. "What's she like?"

"She's often quiet, but not she's not shy. She's very affectionate and her verbal skills are developing well in both Russian and English. She's a good listener, takes direction well. She's very observant."

"Is she still...is she small?"

"She's petite, but not unhealthily so. It is something we've struggled with. We learned she had a milk allergy, we took her off milk products and she's been progressing well ever since."

Sydney nodded, processing.

Irina continued after a moment. "She likes to color and paint. She likes to be read to and to dance to music. She loves animals."

Sydney didn't say anything in response. Finally, she stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep."

Irina had a feeling Sydney didn't sleep very well, if it at all. She saw Sydney leave the compound early that morning. Irina had spent the morning at the nursery, preparing Analise. Sydney had finally returned in the early afternoon.

Irina had found her in the sitting room.

"Are you ready?"

Sydney frowned slightly. "I don't know. I don't know if I can do this. And I don't know what you expect from me."

"Today, I don't expect anything."

Sydney sighed. "Is she happy?"

"I could tell you, but I don't think anything I say could stop you from wondering as well as seeing for yourself. Come on, Sydney." Irina headed for the door.

"How far do we have to go?" Sydney started towards the car.

Irina smiled. "Not far." She headed for the trail instead of the car.

Sydney had followed, perplexed. She'd been quiet the short walk through the trees to building 7. But as they had reached the building, Irina had seen the realization in her daughter's eyes.

This close. All the time.

It had been unseasonably warm for late October. Irina had instructed Charlotte, the nurse, let Analise play outside. Analise's play area was fenced in, with a playhouse, slide and swings. As they turned the corner of the building, she could see the little girl facing away from them, catching a ball that the nurse was tossing in her direction.

Analise was dressed in green corderoy overalls over a long-sleeve, white turtleneck. Her dark hair was separated into two pony tails, tied with green ribbons.

Sydney stopped just as the child came into view. Irina stopped beside her, watching her daughter. Sydney's face was almost expressionless, but she was starting to breathe more quickly.

The ball rolled past Analise and she turned towards them. "Reena!" She grinned and scampered up to the gate. "Reena!"

Irina opened the gate and entered the play area, greeting her with a hug. When she stepped back, Analise looked up at Sydney with curious, green eyes.

Sydney stared down at the child, eyes wide.

Analise gave her a fully dimpled smile. "Mama."

Sydney inhaled sharply and looked at her mother, horrified.

Irina couldn't help but smile. "She's seen pictures of you, Sydney."

Sydney swallowed. "You showed her pictures of me? Why would you do that?"

"Mama," Analise said again, proud of herself.

"Because you're her mother. And I wanted her to know that," Irina continued before Sydney could protest, "whether you were a part of her life or not."

Sydney looked down at Analise again and briskly walked out of the yard. Irina watched her slow as she neared the building, and take a moment before she walked inside.

Analise stared after Sydney, uncertainly.

Irina patted the child's back lightly. "It's okay."

Irina had turned and directed the nurse to push Analise on the swing and promised the child she'd be right back. She had walked into the building slowly, turning to head right into the nursery.

The lights had been off, but sunlight still came in the window and dimly lit the room. Sydney stood at the far wall, staring at a collection of Analise's childish drawings and paintings. She quickly wiped her eyes as Irina stepped into the room. Irina kept silent as Sydney crossed to the opposite of the room where the wall was covered with numbers, letters, and colors, all at a child's height. Finally just above those were pictures of animals and people, including a picture of Sydney.

Sydney stared at it a moment before backing up and sitting down on the child-sized bed, with a pastel yellow and green comforter. Irina had gotten rid of the crib shortly after Analise had turned a year old. Sydney looked up, taking note of her mother for the first time. Her eyes were still glassy.

Sydney spoke softly. "Why didn't you let her be adopted, or send her to Vaughn?"

Irina stepped further into the room. "I know what it's like to give up a child. All the time you spend hoping it was the correct decision, wondering if she's all right."

Sydney watched her approach a moment, then shook her head. "You thought I was going to regret giving her up?"

"I had no way to know whether or not you would change your mind. But I knew that I could not give up a child that I had more than ample resources to raise and care for."

Sydney ran her hand lightly across the bedspread. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew that when you were ready to know about her, you would ask, just as you did last night. It had to be your decision, Sydney. I didn't want you to feel pressured or think that because I kept her here, I was going to force you to raise her."

"But that is what you expect isn't it?" Sydney questioned seriously. "That now that I've seen her I'll want to take her back?"

Irina had straightened, realizing her daughter had misunderstood.

Her eyes narrowed. "You wanted to see her. I wasn't going to deny you that. But this was by no means an offer for you to take her back. You made your decision to give her up. And I made mine to raise her myself. It is a decision I take very seriously. And I have no intention of giving her up, to anyone."

Sydney's eyes lowered.

Irina softened her expression. "Sydney, this is not about lack of confidence in you. I considered what would be best if you changed your mind. But I couldn't make this about you. It had to be about what's best for her."

Analise was a child, with thoughts, feelings and emotional needs of her own. Not an object to be passed around on a whim.

Irina moved to the window and watched Charlotte push Analise on the swing, then looked back at her daughter and continued. "It is your decision whether or not you want to be involved with her life…whether or not you want to know her. I set this up to keep you both close but separate during a time when I thought you might find her presence distressing. But I had no desire to hide her from you. I want her to know you."

She had smiled at Sydney and then went back outside. Irina stopped the swing, tickled her granddaughter and lifted her out. Analise tugged her by the hand towards the slide. Irina had enjoyed watching Analise play but glanced at the window several times, hoping to see Sydney watching them. Hoping to see her showing some interest. But then her granddaughter had demanded her full attention.

Analise noticed her first.

"Mama?"

The word came out uncertainly, the girl was apparently no longer sure if it was correct after the reaction she'd gotten previously.

Irina watched Sydney cross the yard, but didn't say anything. Sydney passed them at first, continuing to the other side of the yard. She stopped and picked up the ball and turned around and approached them. She held out the ball to the child.

"Can I play?"

Analise giggled. The girl nodded, taking the ball and darting several feet away to throw it.

Irina had moved to the stand out of the way and just watch them and take in how right it was to watch Sydney playing with her daughter.

It was short-lived.

The ball rolled away. The child ran after it, tripped over it, and fell face down into the grass. She was sitting up again immediately, obviously uninjured. Sydney started to approach her. But the girl's face puckered and she began to wail.

Sydney froze.

Irina crossed the yard and brushed the dirt off, hugged Analise and told the child she was fine. Analise's cries reduced to sniffles immediately. Irina turned to Sydney.

"She's all right. You can keep playing."

Sydney hesitated.

Analise looked across the yard and her face her lit up. "Daddy!"

Sydney inhaled sharply and turned to look as the girl scampered towards the gate.

Sark opened the gate and scooped up the child. Analise gave him a hug and a big smile.

Sydney looked from Sark to her mother in confusion.

Sark came towards them, carrying Analise.

Sydney crossed her arms. "How long have you known that she was here?" She continued before he could speak, "Awhile, since she obviously knows you so well."

Sydney had briskly exited the yard and headed back towards the main compound.

"I'll go talk to her," Sark offered.

"No. Spend some time with her," Irina responded, nodded towards Analise. She gave the girl a quick kiss and followed Sydney.

She had found Sydney in her bedroom, packing.

"I need some time away," Sydney explained, as she hastily stuffed items in her suitcase. "Nothing seems to make sense here any more."

Irina watched her, silently.

Sydney paused after stuffing in another shirt and looked up, angrily. "Was I the only one here that didn't know Analise was just in another building?"

"You were the only one that didn't ask," Irina responded sharply. "I took her from that room that day and the doctors examined her. And everyone here…they had all watched you go through that pregnancy, and they wanted to see her. They wanted to know what I was going to do with her."

Sydney sank onto her bed. "And I didn't." She shook her head, and looked up confused. "Why does she think Sark's her father?"

"She started calling him that on her own several months ago. It seems to suit the relationship they have."

"But he's not her father," Sydney countered.

"She's a little young for that explanation, Sydney. He's the only father she knows."

Sydney stood up again. "I still…" She pulled down the top her suitcase and zipped it shut. "I don't know how to handle all of this." She dragged the suitcase off the bed.

Irina nodded. "How long will you be gone?"

Sydney headed for the door. "I don't know. I just, I need to think."

Irina assumed Sydney would head for her house in Australia. A week passed and Sydney neither called her nor returned. If she contacted Sark, he didn't mention it.

Irina made arrangements to have a nursery put into the guest room closest to hers and emptied out building 7.

Another week passed.

Analise stopped sneaking out of her new room to find Irina in the middle of the night.

Another four days.

Irina spent a day away on business. It was past midnight when she returned. She peeked in to be sure her granddaughter was sleeping before heading down the stairs.

The door opened before she reached her study. Sydney dragged in her suitcase, and stiffened when she noted her mother watching her.

"Welcome back," Irina said simply, and walked into her study.

But she wasn't surprised that Sydney, sans suitcase, entered moments later.

Sydney took a deep breath. "I want to try."

Irina watched her.

Sydney sat down across from her. "I want to be involved. I don't want to have to wonder or to ask how her life is going. I want to know."

The childish giggle from the girl peeking into the room startled Sydney enough that she jumped.

Irina sighed. Apparently, the novelty of sneaking out of her room at night, hadn't quite worn off.

Irina got up and opened the door, in time to see Charlotte coming down the stairs after the child.

"Back to bed," Charlotte ordered, taking the girl by the hand.

"Good night," Irina told the child before closing her office door again.

Sydney watched with a realization. "You moved her here?"

"I told you I wouldn't hide her from you. And it will make it easier for you to be involved." Irina sat back down. "How did you come to this decision?"

Sydney swallowed. "Even though I know you've taken great care of her, that you will, I know I'm just going to worry otherwise." She looked down at her hands. "Sark gives me pictures, of Taryn, whenever he knows I'm down or thinking about her. I see the pictures and I want to believe that she's all right. That she's fine. That Vaughn's taking good care of her. But still, without being there to see and watch her, I really don't know. And I can't ever stop wondering. I don't want it to be the same way with Analise. I don't know if I can do it. But…I want to try."

Irina nodded. She knew that feeling. Having never even met the child, she still looked at the pictures on Sydney's dresser and wondered whether or not Taryn would be all right.

As she looked at the child shifting uncomfortably in the chair across from her, she still wondered. The child's statement hardly made it sound like she had been fine, even prior to Sloane's attempt on her life. Sydney had always been so certain Taryn had been better off without her, but she never had truly checked.

Irina looked at the child with narrowed eyes. "Do you love your father, Taryn?"

Taryn nodded immediately. "Yes." She closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

"Do you think he loves you?"

"He says he does, but..." Taryn stared at the floor and her shoulders sagged. "I…don't know." She paused, but continued before Irina could prod her with the obvious question. "He looks at me sometimes, like I make him sad. I think it's because I look like my mom. And he gets so mad at me, even when I haven't done anything. For awhile, he wouldn't even let me see Grandpa. My therapist says it's not about me, but I know it is. My mom left, and he got stuck with me." The girl crossed her arms and hugged herself.

Irina blinked slowly and wondered how long her granddaughter had been feeling so unwanted. Wonder how Vaughn could let her feel so unloved. "Does your father know how you feel?" The question came out more harshly than she intended.

Taryn didn't seem to notice. "He doesn't listen to me. If I get mad, I get in trouble. So I just run away. He always finds me though."

"Where would you go if he didn't find you?"

"I don't know." She looked at her hands. "Last time, I thought I might look for my mom."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "You want to meet your mother?"

"Yeah. I want to ask her why she left. And if, she wanted me. And I just want to know what she's like. And if she's okay. So I can stop...wondering." There was actual emotion on the child's face for almost the first time since they'd begun their conversation. A sadness in her eyes that switched to uncertainty as if she was realizing for the first time how much she'd opened up to this woman she barely knew.

Irina smiled at her and changed the subject. "I think it's time for lunch."

Taryn grimaced. "I'm not..."

She trailed off at Irina's disapproving look. Irina stood up and started for the door. She heard the girl stand up and start to follow reluctantly. Irina slowed her pace, forcing Taryn to catch up to her as they started down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Have you heard from, Sydney?" Taryn questioned.

"It's only been a couple days. It's going to take time for her to find your father," Irina responded, stopping a moment and looking down at Taryn. "Are you worried about her?"

Taryn answered, without looking at her. "I just want people to stop disappearing."

A guard approached them as they reached the sitting room.

"Taryn, go on into the kitchen," Irina ordered. "I'll join you in a moment."

Taryn looked at the guard curiously then did as told.

Irina turned to the guard expectantly.

"Sark's plane landed twenty minutes ago. He should be here in a couple hours."

Irina nodded and the guard exited. She turned towards the kitchen door to see Taryn coming back out of the room. Her face was pale and she was hyperventilating.

"Taryn? What's wrong?"

The little girl at her with wide, glassy eyes but didn't say anything.

Irina carefully grasped her by the arms and guided her over to a seat on the couch. She looked her in the eye. "Taryn, what's the matter?"

Taryn swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath. She blinked hard and tears started down her cheeks.

"There's blood in the kitchen."