Disclaimer: Alias? Not mine, alas. It is said that it belongs to one J.J. Abrams and probably 500 other people.
Author's note: my first fanfic, be nice or feel free to lynch me, however you feel. And there might be inacuracies in the timeline. Anyways, review, please.
Irina prepared herself to enter the building. She had been told that security was very low but that didn't mean that there couldn't be any surprises. She had taken tranquilizer guns with her, she wasn't in a mood for killing and 6hours in there would be more than enough. This was her last lead; she had prayed and prayed the night before even though she kept telling herself that she didn't believe in God and that if He was up there he had stopped listening to her a long time ago. Her informant had told her that there were rumors of a child being detained there about 18 years ago and done experiments on, experiments concerning Rambaldi. She hopped it was Nadia and in the same time wished it wasn't.
She got in and disabled the cameras and then shot down all the guards one by one. She was surprised, who would guard an abandoned facility? Because that is what it was. She finally found a control room that looked directly, through a one way mirror, into another room where there stood a chair with leather bindings where a person's wrists and ankles would be.
"Not a person", she corrected herself. "A child."
She turned on the computers there and inserted a USB key into one of the terminals, her contact had assured her that it would salvage any recoverable file in a matter of minutes; she had paid him enough for her to believe him. While the program did its work she continued staring into the room, at the chair.
She realized with fear that there were toys scattered around the room. They seemed so out of place, she nearly laughed out of nervousness.
The program announced it was finished. A video started playing on the monitors. What she saw made her so week in the knees she had to sit down. Her little girl, she would have recognized her anywhere: she looked so much like Sydney at the same age, was being injected some fluid against her will and her crying. A man Irina knew, a researcher that had worked at the KGB, was doing it and he was calling the child "Nadia". She thought it was funny that they would keep the name she had given her.
What she saw next made her shudder: that liquid made her little girl go into a trance and she wrote things down. Things that looked suspiciously like the Rambaldi sign. So that was why.
Her little Nadia was the Passenger.
Which could only mean one thing: Irina was not the Chosen One, Sydney was.
She was angry, so angry. Angry about herself and even angrier about Rambaldi: that man had no right to barge into her world, her life, take away her children, when he had been dead for the past 500 years.
Then she did something she hadn't done in years, since Kashmir in fact: she broke down. She kicked and cursed and cried and wailed, her heart ached so much, from the loss of Nadia and Sydney and even Jack. She sat down and cried the loss of her little babies and of her husband for what seemed like an eternity to her.
After that, even though the pain was still agonizing she drew up a plan of action to find her daughters and save them from each other. She dried her tears and went back to looking like the great Irina Derevko; and acting like her she took the USB key with the video of her daughter on it and destroyed all the computers there.
No one would know she had been there. She marched out of the building not caring about the guards that would probably be out cold for at least 4 more hours. A month later she gave herself in to the CIA.
