Title: The Gatekeeper
Author: Daera
Summary: A moment during "Trust Me"; Irina POV
Rating: R
Disclaimer: See "The Wind Done Gone" Defense
Feedback: Of course – daera23@aol.com
The Gatekeeper
I feel like a goddess removed from time. Until 3 days ago, I was obsessed with time. I could tell you the time instantly in any of 25 different time zones, and what was the fasted route from each to any of the scattered four corners of this world. And now, I wait. I wait for a chance to see my daughter. I don't want to be her mother, her mentor, her confident. No, I want to watch her in action, study her. I want to see how much of who you are is dictated through simple biology and how much is learned from your environment. To see how I may have turned out in a different environment with different choices. That's how I always viewed her – as a science experiment.
I never wanted a child. My own childhood was far too short. My father was KGB and was more than happy to submit me to an emaciated general who would initiate me to the ways of a spy. Sure I learned the covert crap and the arts of evasion, perception, and strategy, but I was also forced to swallow much more. Be intimate with men who my party deemed necessary. Pay dues on my knees to the wrinkled old men. Be awarded as a prize to the hot new young agent studs.
And then they told me with pride in their eyes that I had a new assignment. They wanted me to become one of the highest placed, most deeply buried moles. Deep cover, marriage, a new country, a fictional life, and an unfortunate by-product - a child. I saw the assignment as a way to finally prove myself, to break away from my KGB pimp, and eventually control my own fate. So I had to take a husband to become an emancipated woman – such irony.
The clanking of the metal gates brings me to the present, so I won't dwell on the past. No sense in it. Who is the latest pawn sent to interrogate Irina Derevko? I thought Kendall finally realized my stipulations for my cooperation. It won't be her - I may not have raised my daughter, but I do know her. Someone a step closer maybe. Not Jack. I'm sure he's still trying to find his emasculated balls after learning I turned myself in. For a man who is very intelligent and cunning in his craft, he never knew how to relate to women. He was a lousy lover and an easy mind-fuck.
The visitor gets to the last gate and pauses. Stealing himself up? This may even be fun.
And then Michael Vaughn walks to the glass. Her handler. Interesting.
He walks directly up to the window where I have draped myself. I watch his every glance, but his eyes go sideways and down, before briefly looking directly at me, and then away again.
His discomfort is amusing. His father also shied away from my gaze, so I stare intently at him, and watch the inherited, but adorable furrowed brow. William was a married man who shouldn't have had those dark desires for another man's wife. Michael looks more like a teenager who is scared to admit that he is fucking your daughter.
He steals himself up. He thinks he'll handle me. Well Mr. Vaughn, you may work wonders with my daughter, but you're way out of your league, just like your father. I can still vividly see the first time I broke William. Down on my knees, hiding in a hallway away from a party. My lips wrapped around his beautiful cock. He never really had a chance. I caught him off guard once, and then had the goods to blackmail him into doing my bidding. When he realized I was KGB, his patriotism ruled out even though his confession would expose his own duplicity. So I viciously dealt with the threat. Those were dark days. Blood is so hard to get from underneath your nails.
I half expect to hear his voice crack when he starts to speak.
"We're interested in computer disk, containing information used for blackmail. We believe you are familiar with this item."
I remain silent, curious to study his approach, his strategy.
"That's an implied question. I'll, make it clear for you. Are you familiar with this item?"
Hmmm. Forceful. Maybe he does have more bite than father. Same earnest, but pained eyes and strong Roman nose. Michael's features are more chiseled; he is much more of a pretty boy. Has she sampled his favors yet?
He tries a different tactic; one I can tell he is loath to use, but one knows will get results.
"I know you want to see your daughter. I can guarantee you that is never gonna happen unless she knows you're cooperating. Prove yourself. Give Sydney a reason to see you."
"Sydney. Interesting."
Interesting indeed. Such earnestness and feeling. He obviously knows the way to her heart; he's the gatekeeper I will have to conquer. He wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to her. He's here to protect her, and those emotions telegraph across his face plain as day. He has umbrage with me, but he will not let that interfere today. He's not here about his own grudge. He's suppressing that. He is here for her. I wonder if she knows that he is playing the sacrificial lamb. I never had such a protector.
"Agent Bristow is in Rabat now, seeking to recover the list. Is there anything she should know?"
He hits the B on Bristow hard. And displays the open nerve. So other people have criticized their relationship.
"Next to the safe there's a fire alarm. If you want to protect her, tell to her to pull it first, then open the safe."
"Why"
"I've given you a gift, and all you get from me is one."
He takes my words seriously and will not let me waste anymore of his time. He decisively turns and heads out, but I have one last spade to play today.
"You look just like him."
He pauses. The young man in front of me is disappointingly easy. And he will provide me with the keys to puzzle that is my daughter without even knowing it.
END