Title: Flesh and Blood
Summary: Irina and Sydney's last conversation
Disclaimer: If I owned Alias, Irina would not have been turned out to be completely evil in the end. She tried to kill her daughter? WTH? So not mine . . .
Spoilers: None. Any similarity to another fic is accidental.
She felt drained, hollow, lifeless. The life she had so carefully crafted had finally fallen to pieces.
Death by lethal injection.
She fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall. She wanted to be strong. For herself. For Sydney. And for anyone who might be watching.
The clanging of bars rising up and down alerted her to a visitor.
She should have been surprised.
She wasn't.
A guard unlocked the glass cage and Sydney stepped inside, face to face with her mother for the first time since the verdict had been read. They stared at each other across a chasm of silence, a nervous energy floating around the room.
Irina's voice took on the soft edge that always seemed to be present when Sydney was near. She clasped her hands together, squeezing until the blood rushed away. "Hello."
Sydney waited until the guards final footsteps faded away before she responded. She shifted uneasily, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hi." More silence engulfed the room.
Irina had the distinct feeling that Sydney wanted her to speak first.
She spoke deliberately, a strand of insecurity clinging bitterly to her words. Her left hand moved recklessly to her neck. "Shouldn't you be rejoicing with your father?" Wow. Where had that come from?
Her daughter's eyes flickered with the tortured dullness of disbelief. "I'm not . . . we're not rejoicing . . .," she huffed. Her lips thinned with irritation. "If that's what you think I'm doing, then you're more delusional than I thought."
Irina laughed sharply, making Sydney's skin crawl. "You could be right about the delusional part." She moved listlessly around the room, careful to avoid direct contact. "It would be my prerogative, wouldn't it though?" she questioned. "Finally being able to go crazy?"
A look of disgust washed over Sydney's features. "You're joking at a time like this?"
She stopped in her tracks. "Why shouldn't I?"
Eyebrows shot up in amazement. "Because . . . you're about to die." She ripped out the words impatiently, waiting for some sort of explanation. Something that would explain why her mother was being so cavalier about impending death. "Don't you even care?"
Irina forced her lips to part in a curved, stiff smile. "Of course I care, Syd. But there's nothing I can do about it."
The younger woman sighed in frustration. "Why can't you give me something real, for once."
Irina contemplated what her daughter was saying by letting her gaze fly to the camera in the corner. Sydney's followed, words wondering from her mouth. A special favor her father had done for them.
"No one's listening. Dad made sure of that."
Irina shrugged her shoulders, keeping her eyes out of focus and slightly to the left of Sydney. Despite the front Jack put on, she knew Sydney had him wrapped around her little finger. "Okay, then." She rested her back against the furthest wall, a small smile threatening her lips. "What do you want to talk about?"
She blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. Something she had been wondering about for years. "I want to know why you did all those horrible things."
Of all the things to ask . . . Irina didn't finish the thought, but she let herself speak in terms her mind would allow. "Some things are better left unsaid."
"Just give me one thing," she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. She rocked back on her heels, her shoulders hunched in disappointment. Until her mother's angry voice vibrated through the room. She swallowed hard masking her growing fear.
Irina clenched her teeth, taking a few steps toward her. Icy defeat twisted around her heart. She didn't want to do this. Not this way. But if Sydney wanted it, if Sydney was pleading for it, she was going to get it. "I'll give you something real. Like you said, I'm about to die for everything I've ever done in my life. Do I regret it? No. It was kill or be killed. I chose to live. I chose to protect my family. I'm not going to apologize for that." She threw her hands up in the air. "Satisfied?"
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I just . . ." Wait, she didn't just say. . .? She could barely finish the thought. But she had to ask. She had to know. The question burned as it left her mouth. "Did your superiors threaten to harm me?"
As suddenly as the anger had appeared, it disappeared. A vulnerability overtook her features. The look on her mother's face told her all she needed to know.
"Mom . . ." She stepped forward, intent on trying to comfort her. But Irina backed up, a wild look in her dark, Russian eyes.
A stray tear caressed her cheek. "No . . . Don't. It's too late. It's done. It's finished." Her tone sounded childish, she knew. And for once she didn't care. "You need to leave."
Sydney closed her eyes, her heart aching for her mother. If she had known sooner . . . a longing filled her body. Well, I asked for it. Her eyes popped back open, filling with tears of frustration. She wasn't going to leave like this. She crossed her arms stubbornly over her heaving chest. "I'm not leaving until I'm finished."
"You don't have a choice." Irina made her way to the door, avoiding her daughter's form, avoiding her very being. She cleared her throat before yelling, hoping the sound of her tears were gone. "Guard."
Sydney shook her head, knowingly. "It won't work. They've been informed not to answer to your voice. For the moment, you're stuck with me."
She turned frustrated eyes towards her daughter, noting the set look on her face. She could have only inherited her stubbornness from one person. And right now, Irina was damning that person to hell.
"Don't do this, Syd. Neither one of us needs this. Especially you." She eyed the opposite wall, still waiting by the door, waiting for a guard to 'rescue' her from this terrifying conversation. "I'm not going to discuss this anymore."
"Then allow me to talk. I came here, because there's something I've been meaning to tell you." Sydney perched herself on the steel bed, folding her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes down, her voice hushed, but crystal clear. "Before you go, I want you to know something. A part of me never stopped hoping that you could be my mother again. That somehow time could be erased and everything horrible that's happened would be gone." She chuckled softly to herself. "A childish notion, I know."
She rose from her seat, walking to her mother's shaking form. A strangled sob escaped from the older woman's mouth. Sydney continued in a hushed tone."What I'm trying to say is . . . I love you."
"Why?"
The word was spoken so softly that Sydney almost missed it. A light smile filtered across her face. She reached out, running tentative fingers through her mother's silky brown hair. "Because you're my mother." She stilled her hand, forcing herself to let go. She turned to face the door, hitting it twice with her fist. "Guard, I'm done."
"I'm sorry," Irina whispered, as the guard opened the door.
Sydney paused in the doorway, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was it. She clenched her hands at her sides, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. "Good-bye, mom."
The door shut with a resounding bang behind her. She didn't stop to look through the glass one last time.
She just . . . left.