With thanks going out to AngelofLight1(5?) and her wonderful MSWord thesaurus. ^_~

AN:  The following was thought up ages ago and written in a few hours, in two nights. Struggling with writer’s block is HARD. Thus, this may suck. Not the concept, just the narration. (The concept and idea are lovely and could’ve been presented better, I know. Please forgive me. *clings*) Please try to simply grasp the essence of the story. That was what I wanted to have everyone see. ^_^; It’s a relationship fic, and, um, someone said I should write more of these. ^_^; This is for you, whoever you are!

Sydney couldn’t stand it anymore.

Her parents’ bickering over trivial matters was unspeakably irritating. The fact that her mother knew more than she let on (it was obvious that this was true — it was just obvious), and the matter of her father’s distrust in the woman, were tolerable. Even the occasional argument was nothing to worry over. But when it came to the point where their mission had to be halted to settle something so seemingly pety, Sydney could not stay quiet.

And so she didn’t.

“Hey!” She was going to go on when the two looked at her, but both managed to silence her without words.

But it was more than just them, the young woman realized. It was not their mere presence that made her stop. No, it was not that. It was so much more. There they stood, her parents, both of whom she had once thought she’d never truly know. The mother she thought she had lost forever. The father who was unreachable. The family she had wanted, never thought would exist. It did exist. It was in fragments, yes, but it was there. She had no memory of a domestic fight. Seeing theirs now (though it was in no way domestic) almost brought a smile to her face.

Jack’s glare, however, kept the grin from ever showing. It was with his eyes alone that he told the two women that they would follow his plan and ignore his ex-wife’s warnings. He climbed up the dusty ladder resting on the wall, leaving Irina to follow him and his daughter to trail them both.

Sydney drew closer to await her turn. The Russian lingered. She fixed her alluring gaze on her daughter and, just as the man had done before, told the young woman to stay without actually speaking.

“Don’t try to talk sense into us,” said the taller woman. A small, amused grin appeared on her face. “We’re far past that.”

Sydney smiled in return and watched her go before beginning her ascent.

The argument had been about the old wooden floors. Irina claimed to have been in this place before. To find what they were searching for, they had to walk across the topmost room. The Russian claimed that there was a right and wrong way to cross the floor. Jack believed it nonsense. Sydney, being younger and, in a way, more inexperienced (so her father would say, and so was true in its own right), was prepared to believe whatever her mother told her. She was, as the older woman had once said herself, her mother, and she should therefore be trusted. Of course, her father had told her the opposite. Hope, faith, naivete — these attributes made the youngest of the three want to listen to the only other woman with them. These attributes were the ones her father condemned.

Just as the daughter placed her feet firmly on the floor, she found that the argument had been resumed. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and put firmness in her stare. They would not listen to her. She knew that. They were at the top floor and a decision had to be reached. If I leave it up to them, she thought, we’ll never get done.

A reckless idea came upon her. In its each and every aspect, it was a bad idea. Not only was she risking her safety and that of her parents, but she was bound to incur in their wrath should she be fine in the end or not.

But it was the only way to make them stop.

Boldly and putting all rational thought behind her — since when had her work as a spy ever been rational, though? —, she walked out onto the floor as quickly as she could. Her aim was to give her parents enough of a shock to keep them in silence for a few seconds. That much time would be enough for her to get at least half way across the room.

Her initial objective was reached: The argument ceased and the two’s attention was immediately given to her.

“Sydney —”

“No, don’t —”

But what Sydney hadn’t expected was Irina’s follow-up reaction. The woman broke into a run, ignoring then her own recommendations about the floor. She grabbed her daughter’s arm and was pulling her back when a hard step meant for keeping her balance made the wood below both their feet break and fall out from under them. Jack stopped where he was — several feet away and at a safe enough distance to not fall himself — as the two women fell through two additional stories. They landed hard, amidst dust and woody debris.

Neither moved for a while. Then, with a loud grunt, Irina lifted wood out of her way, making the area more comfortable, if it could be, thus allowing more freedom for movement. She made her way to her daughter, having spotted the young woman in her efforts to push away debris.

Sydney had thus far not attempted to move. Her face was contorted in a grimace of pain, and her left leg was hidden under a rather large piece of wood. She had made several fruitless attempts to remove the fragment of the once-floor but had failed in doing so. There was too much pain, physical and beyond physical. The realization that it was her fault that she and her mother were down there, that it had been her stupidity, her ignorance that could have severly hurt them both, weighed heavily down upon her.

Her eyes were closed then. She only opened them when she felt a slight relief in her injured leg and heard the thud of the broken panel of wood a few feet away. Sydney then found herself looking up at her mother’s concerned but not panicked form bending over her leg. Guilt fell on the young woman, poured down her shoulders like cold water. She looked away, sighing shakily.

“Mom, I’m sorry.”

Irina said nothing for a few seconds, opting instead for tearing the leg of her daughter’s pants to get a better look at the wound. She breathed a silent sigh.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she said, glancing at the younger. “I’m fine — ignore the scratches —”

“Scratches? They’re more like gashes —”

“Sydney —” there was a flame in the Russian’s eyes that made her look very much like a typical mother “— I am fine.” She cast her gaze once more to her daughter’s rather gruesome-looking injury. “You’re the one who is going to take a bit longer to heal.”

She then applied very light pressure to a spot an inch or two away from the abnormal bump on Sydney’s leg, which she interpretted as a dislocated bone. The younger woman’s face instantly contorted into a cringe, a gasp escaping from her mouth. Irina drew away her hand and gave her daughter a slightly amused look.

It was returned, albeit reluctantly.

“Okay,” the younger woman said, still grimacing a bit. “Point taken.”

Irina put her hands together, one over the other, and placed them just above the younger’s wound. All vestiges of a smile were gone from her face. What replaced them was a total seriousness that somehow managed to not be harsh.

“Your father would have followed my directions soon enough,” she said, not moving her hands in the least.

Sydney, who had known what her mother was going to do, now listened in rapt attention, the accent in the older woman’s voice giving the words a strangely soothing sort of quality.

“He would have made me go first, then he would have followed. He just likes being stubborn. Especially with me.” Half a chuckle went by, as did part of a smile; both disappeared as quickly as they had come. “But who can blame him for that?” She shook her head. “The point is you should have waited. I know you wanted to get the task done and that you knew I wasn’t lying. But you had to trust not only my words, but my experience with Jack.” She paused, the grave look in her eyes almost frightening. “Don’t be like I was. Like I am.”

Mother turned her head to look at daughter, smiling calmly with all the gentle affection inside.

“Trust me, Sydney.”

Sydney just nodded, at a loss for words, giving the older woman a small, genuine smile in return.

Eye contact was then broken by the Russian. Once again she was expressionless, focusing on her still-together hands.

“Now listen. I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes.”

The younger frowned, vaguely confused. She knew the why, but for some reason she couldn’t process it as swiftly as she normally processed anything. “Trust me, Sydney,” had been her mother’s command and plea. It didn’t have to be repeated for her to understand. It was in the air between them, around them, within them. It just took a few long seconds to fully comprehend, to accept.

Sydney obeyed. Irina pressed down hard on her daughter’s leg, eliciting a cry of pain from the young woman. Once the echo had faded away, Irina straightened in her kneeling position and lifted her hands.

“I don’t want to sound uncaring or cruel,” she said, a not haughty smirk playing with the corners of her mouth, “but I think your father knows where we are now.”

Sydney nodded, smiling as best she could while biting her lips and taking one last deep breath.

“There’s also enough material here to make a splint —”

“Thanks,” the younger woman interrupted. “I get the point now.”

“There’s no moral point to this, Sydney, it’s first aid.”

“We’ve both been in worse situations and survived without first aid.”

“Yes, because there was no choice. There’s a choice now and —”

“It isn’t necessary —”

“Don’t start an argument like this with —”

“Oh, what, now I can’t say anythi—”

“— just like your father —”

“— exactly like Dad said you were —”

Their argument, which was very much a mirror of Irina and Jack’s previous ones, carried through the room, guiding Jack to them.

As for the mission, it turned out that the information they’d received had been rather off. Even if they had made it across the room safely, they would’ve ended up with a fake piece to a large puzzle.

Instead the two women of the group had gained a piece vital to any relationship: trust.

AN:  I am SO sorry about that crappy ending. >.< I’ve been fighting writer’s block since summer and it hasn’t been working, as you can see. So… I’m sorry! *weep*