So I originally posted this on the SD-1 Forums nearly 2 decades ago. I recently thought of it and wanted to read it again, and I enjoyed the reread enough that I decided to post it here. I'd originally tagged this on that forum as spoilers through Season 3. I have to be honest that I am no longer super up to date on all the Alias canon and details but I think it's safer to say it's sharp canon divergence set sometime after the end of Season 2. There are no missing years; there is no Lauren. It is possible that there is some stuff sprinkled in from Season 3 I am no longer able to recognize, though. At the time I was writing this I was OBSESSED.

This story is not and was never beta-ed and I've made minimal changes from its original form despite the fact that I am aware of some mistakes; please forgive any errors large or small.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

Sydney Bristow walked somewhat cheerfully into Dixon's office. She wasn't sure why she'd been summoned, but suspected it had something to do with the excellent work she'd done in Moscow the previous week.

"Hey," she smiled. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," he nodded, and the smile faded from her face at his curt tone. "Why don't you sit down?"

Nothing good in Sydney's life had ever been directly preceded by her sitting down, and so she shook her head, taking another half step forward instead. "No, thanks."

He sighed, looking down. "Sydney. I'm sorry to have to tell you this."

She frowned sharply, deciding to sit after all. "Tell me what?"

"It's your father, Syd."

Her eyes widened as she wondered what could possibly have happened to her father- as far as she knew he was attending a weekend conference in Washington DC. "What about my dad?"

"Sydney- I'm sorry- but he was captured in Berlin."

Sydney wondered when she'd become too hardened to show any emotion at bad news as she felt her mouth twitch downward, just slightly, before righting itself. Dixon met her eyes. "We believe that Irina Derevko was behind it."

Sydney paled, glad she'd decided to sit. "Where is Derevko holding him?"

Dixon looked down once more. "We don't know."

24 Hours Earlier

Jack Bristow carefully ducked around a corner before kicking open a door. He quickly scanned the room before rushing forward to kick open the next door and repeat the procedure.

"Jack?" Vaughn's voice came over his headset. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Negative," Jack replied, thinking briefly that he was really getting a bit old for field work. "Two more rooms on this floor."

"Copy that. Check them and then get out of there- it's possible the maps have already been relocated to a new venue."

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes at the statement of obvious fact. "Thank you for that astute observation," he ground out before kicking in the second to last door and coming face-to-face with a masked figure. "Drop it!" he barked, nodding to the maps she had securely tucked beneath one arm and the gun she welded in the other.

There was a small pause and the figure dropped the maps before reaching upwards in one fluid motion and yanking the mask from her face. "Hello, Jack."

It was through a supreme act of will that Jack did not drop his own gun. "Irina."

It was the last thing Vaughn heard before transmission went dead.

"Let me make this simple for you," Irina said crisply, dispensing with pleasantries. "I have a gun. You have a gun. Neither of us has any intention of dropping their gun. That would make this a- what's the expression? Stalemate?"

"It would seem so," Jack said quietly. "However, I will not hesitate to shoot you if you do not drop that gun."

Before he even knew what was happening Irina had managed to kick the gun from his hand and across the room, dropping to the floor as she did so and thus avoiding the counter-blow he attempted to strike.

"It would seem I've effectively eliminated that possibility," she said coolly, and Jack fought the simultaneous urges to scream as loudly as possible and to wring her neck as she pointed her gun coolly at him. Almost as an afterthought, she casually kicked his gun into the corner before sending the rolled-up maps in that direction as well.

"What do you want, Irina?" he questioned, deciding his only option was to cut to the chase.

She arched a brow. "I would have thought that was obvious." His brow furrowed as she didn't order him to fall to his knees, hands behind his head, but nothing could have prepared him for what she did say. "How have you been, Jack?"

He stared at her unblinkingly and she let out a small laugh. At his questioning look she smiled. "I never understood the fools who couldn't read your poker face. It's all there- just like on the maps. You just need to know where to look."

Just like that, any limited patience he may have had was gone. "Stop playing games, Irina."

She arched an eyebrow once more and he truly hated the smug smirk that appeared on her face. "Am I?" She followed his eyes to her gun and her smirk grew slightly larger. "How foolish of me." She seemed to truly contemplate for a long moment, then added, "It does seem rather pointless to continue pointing this at you when we both know I would never use it."

Jack in fact felt absolutely no doubt that she would shoot him dead at the slightest provocation and so he said nothing, simply continuing to stare at her.

"And now your face is saying 'oh, really?'" she informed him lightly as she tossed her gun to join his. "But whatever you may think of me I never wanted your death. In fact, contrary to common belief I've gone to great lengths to prevent it on more than one occasion." She smiled again, but this time there was something devious about the expression on her face. "I prefer the simple pleasure of hand-to-hand combat."

He looked at her for a long moment, unsure if she could possibly be suggesting what she seemed to be suggesting. "Irina, don't do this."

She surveyed him critically. "You have no intention of leaving without the maps."

He saw no point in denying it. "I do not."

She shrugged. "Then it doesn't seem I have much of a choice," she shrugged before crouching down into a defensive position. "To the winner go the spoils."

Jack steeled himself before landing the first blow.

"This is boy scout. Come in red woods. Repeat, come in red woods."

"Agent Vaughn? What do you need?" an unfarmiliar but oddly comforting voice asked him softly.

"I have reason to believe that Agent Jack Bristow is trapped inside the museum with Irina Derevko. Repeat, Bristow is trapped in the museum with Derevko."

"Just one moment- we'll send in a team."

"Where are they?"

"A full team? About ten minutes away."

"We don't have ten minutes."

There was a short sound that might almost have been a snort. "Having heard the rumors of how those two go at it? I'd venture a guess that we have far more than ten minutes."

Eight minutes later Irina landed a roundhouse kick to Jack's hip, literally diving to the floor to avoid the punch he attempted to deliver in retaliation. As she wend down, she hit him behind the knees in a successful attempt to get his legs to buckle.

Jack fell to the floor with a thud and she seized the moment, rolling on top of him and pinning his hands behind his head, hesitating the merest fraction of a second before raising her fist to render him unconscious.

Easily anticipating her, Jack used the moment to roll over, effectively pinning her under him, and she smiled. "Are you ready for the kid gloves to come off?" she purred, looking far more comfortable than anyone in her position had any right to be.

He looked at her dubiously. "It's over, Irina."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" she questioned causally as she arched backward with all her strength and managed to deliver a semi-effective kick to his shoulder. His momentary recoil was all she needed to roll out from under him, jumping to her feet before he fully realized she was gone. He sprang up as well, frank respect in his eyes.

"Impressive," he acknowledged as they warily circled one another, both breathing heavily.

"As are you," she nodded. "Even during our marriage, I used to wonder who would win in hand-to-hand combat. I thought that your strength paired against my agility and speed would prove very- interesting."

He nodded curtly, wondering how it was that every word that came out of her mouth always seemed to drip with sexual inuendo. "How satisfactory for you to be proven right," he muttered as he landed a blow to her upper arm. For her part, she took advantage of the movement to kick him squarely in the gut. "Why do you want the maps?" he gasped, readying himself for the next onslaught.

She smiled ever-so-slightly. "I was wondering when you would ask."

Nondescript vehicles screeched to a halt outside the museum and Vaughn jumped out of his car. "Third floor!" he screamed. "Make sure Bristow is unharmed, and GET DEREVKO. She must not be allowed to escape!"

Irina stiffened at the almost imperceptible sound of screeching tires. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said softly.

His confused pause gave her the opportunity she needed.

"Boy scout? Come in, boy scout."

"I'm here. Do you have Bristow?"

"Sir- they're not here."

"Check the whole building! Secure the perimeter! They must be in there somewhere!" Vaughn screamed.

His heart sank at the sound of a helicopter lifting off from the roof.