Letter to Her Daughter
By Gabs
Summary: Irina writes a letter to Sydney.
Rating: PG-13, just to be safe. Set sometime after 'Phase One'
To my dearest Sydney:
It's hard to believe it's already been 3 months since your last visit to my cell. I miss you, I really do. For whatever reason, your father and Agent Vaughn have been kind enough to come see me on occasion, usually once a week. They help to alleviate the dullness of your absence. I sometimes even manage to get one of them to relate some story about you- a tale about a mission perhaps, or some funny story you told them about your friends. I feel so much closer to you when I hear those. But most of the time, it's just business.
3 months… has it really been that long? I can't tell. Every day feels the same as the last in this cell, in this hell. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't have been better for all involved if I had just stayed away. Don't get me wrong, I will be eternally grateful to you for allowing me to get to know you again, even in such a small capacity. 3 months ago, I would have said that I wouldn't trade that for anything. Now, however, I think I have found the one thing I would trade that for: you.
It would have been better if I never turned myself. I'm sure of that now. After all, it was my information that led you to go after Victoria Dumas. I knew she had some Rambaldi artifacts that Sloane would never be able to pass up. You went out, and you got the manuscript, keeping it away from Sloane and Dumas both. I knew you would be able to. I remember you coming to see me when you got back. You were so happy to keep that out of Sloane's hands, and so grateful to me for helping you, but it was tempered by the anger and sadness I could still see there, because you hadn't been able to catch Sloane yet. I assured you that you would get him, and you left happy. I have never been so proud in all my life, Sydney.
You came by two more times in the next week, once to my cell, and once on the roof. I remember seeing the sunlight hitting that bracelet Vaughn gave you. It was nothing fancy, just a small, beaded charm bracelet. You smiled when I asked about it, but you wouldn't say anything beyond what I had already guessed- it was a gift from Vaughn.
Those two visits have been the best. You weren't there because of a mission, you just came by to see me. I never expected you to be so forgiving. Who knew the daughter of two people as messed up as Jack Bristow and Irina Derevko could be so amazing?
But things went downhill from there. You came in one more time, but you were angry with me then. You had come to believe that I had told Sark everything about you and your father, including your double agent status. I didn't see why that mattered- SD-6 was gone anyway- but I swore then, as I will now, that I never told Sark, or anyone else. The only thing anyone ever knew was the basic information: your names, and your relationship to me. But you were still mad at me. I would guess that you didn't truly believe me. We talked- perhaps argued? - a little longer, and then you left. You were still angry when you walked out. I could tell, no matter how well you hid it.
I figured you would need a few days to cool down, and then you would come back and maybe we could work things out, maybe you would realize I was telling the truth. Two weeks later, I was officially worried. You hadn't come by yet. No one had, aside from the guards and the usual nameless agents who were kind enough to bring me what they pass off as food. I realized then that you must have been even angrier than I thought. Perhaps something else had happened, something to make you further question my integrity.
Finally, your father came. It had been 3 weeks since our last discussion, and I was worried. The guards, of course, would say nothing. But one look at Jack's face told me everything. All that I had feared was now coming true. But it wasn't enough for me to be able to guess, Sydney. I had to know for sure. So I asked him.
After a few more moments of silence, he confirmed it. Despite the passing of time since then, I can still remember every word he said to me, Sydney. I remember every facet of that conversation, from the look in his eyes to the beating of my own heart. How could I forget? It has been one of the two worst conversations I have had in my life. The only possible rival was the day I found out I had to leave you two. But not even that compares to what I felt when Jack looked at me that day. Writing this to you now, the whole conversation is playing itself out in my head again, and I'm seeing it as an observer. It doesn't hurt any less this time around.
'It's true, Irina.' He said it with such an odd mix of conviction, anger, and sadness, I didn't know what to make of it.
'How?' He didn't want to answer me; his eyes shifted away, to my cold, hard bed, to the cameras, to the guards- everywhere but me.
'Jack, you have to tell me how.' He glared at me then, and it felt like some of the blame was suddenly shifted to me.
'I don't have to tell you anything, Irina. It's because of you that this happened.'
'How can I argue, or even agree, with that if I don't even know what happened?' I was getting mad. I had every right to know, whether he felt I should or not. That was irrelevant.
'Fine. I'll tell you, if only to make sure you realize that this is on you.' He didn't believe his words; neither did I. But he seemed to feel he had to justify telling me, so I let it pass without comment.
'She was at the Copeland Laundromat. Francie had asked her to pick up some tablecloths and such for the restaurant, though why she took them there, I'll never know. At any rate, Sydney had gotten what she needed and was on her way out when a large black Dodge Ram pulled up. Obviously, Sydney was alarmed, and she called Vaughn on her cell. She dropped the laundry and ran. Apparently, two men exited the Dodge and chased after her. Sydney continued running towards 2nd St. Vaughn told her that if she could get there, he could grab her. Agent Vaughn had just pulled onto that street when he saw Sydney round the corner, the two men right behind her. They met in the middle. He threw open the door, and she went to jump in. But then another dark truck flew around the corner. The window rolled down partway, and there was a long burst of gunfire. The two men who had been chasing Sydney were both cut down. But so was she. She fell into the car, and Vaughn pulled her in the rest of the way. He tried to make it to the hospital, but she died on the way.'
He was amazingly restrained in his telling of the tale. He had obviously given just the necessary facts, not embellishing. But I still couldn't believe how stoic he remained. On the surface, anyway. His eyes told a completely different story. I realized that his telling hadn't explained how he came to say that I was responsible. But as it turns out, the two men who first chased you were operatives of Victoria Dumas. They still don't know the identities or affiliations of the men who killed you.
That makes it sound so final. I don't think I've used that word in regards to you up to this point. Of course, I knew before that it was final. I haven't been living in denial. Actually, Kendall even let me go to the funeral. I had to disguise my face, and there was an army of guards hidden around the graveyard, but that didn't matter. I was allowed to be there to say goodbye.
It was a beautiful service, Sydney. The weather was very befitting of the occasion- it was gray and cloudy, but no rain. I don't think the sun showed its face at all that day. I half expected it would, just to spite those of us who grieved for you. Your friends Will and Francie both spoke, though Will was much more emotional. One could almost believe your father had trained Francie, she was so restrained. Vaughn also spoke, and his was the hardest to listen to. He revealed that you two had been engaged, but that 'circumstances' wouldn't allow for it to be made public just yet. That was what the bracelet was representative of- the future, and all that was to come when Sloane was finally captured and you left the CIA.
Then your father spoke. His speech was amazing, Sydney. It was very much what you would expect of Jack Bristow, but it also wasn't. By that, I mean it was kept short, and he didn't burst into tears in front of everyone there. But he did make sure to say that he loved you with everything he had in him, and that you were his proverbial 'light at the end of the tunnel.' You were his life. And he said something that surprised even me.
'I know that Sydney's mother is watching right now. Despite the tragedies of their brief relationship, I know this would have affected her as much as it has hurt all of you.'
That was all he said, but it was enough. I admit it, Sydney- I started crying right there. It seems you are the only person who can make me do that. Obviously, I wasn't the only one crying. Your Vaughn was off to one side, alone until Will joined him. Neither of them made any effort to hide their tears, and for that I am grateful to them both. Your friend Francie also seemed to be crying, though it was hard to tell with the way she kept her head down. Even Kendall had his eyes closed, though I doubt there were tears in them
And after just about everyone had left, the CIA decided it was safe to lock me up and take me back to my hell. I didn't fight it- there was nothing left to fight for. But just before they closed the doors of the van, I looked towards your final resting spot one last time, and saw something I will never forget: Jack Bristow was on his knees in the dirt, crying.
Once again, that did it to me. I cried all the way back to wherever this cell is, and I've cried every day since. Neither your father nor Vaughn has ever shown any more of that fragile emotion around me, though I do notice that Vaughn now wears your beaded bracelet on a similar necklace. He usually keeps it under his suit and tie, but it was out once, and now I look for it every time he comes by. I can always see a small part of it when he turns to walk away. As for your father, he doesn't wear his memory of you around his neck, nor cry for it every day. He keeps it in his eyes, where I can always see his love for you, as well as his regrets for all the time wasted. I know that second part of his look; it's in my eyes, too. I'm not sure which of us feels it worse- me, for having more years lost, and all the betrayal between us, or him, for having had the ability to see you anytime in all those years, and never taking it up.
As you know darling, they only allow me so much paper per month, and I've nearly allotted all of it with this letter. I can't use it all, or I won't be able to write to you next week. I just felt that today was the right time to get all of this out for you. It is, after all, drawing near your birthday. That reminds me of something…
I look over and see my earrings near my bed. I remember what you did for me, all the effort you put in to get them back. You know how much they mean to me. The thing I never told you, never told anyone, is that there is a matching necklace that goes with those earrings. My father gave it to me on my 16th birthday, and told me a secret: I had something more to look forward to in just a few years. I know that he was hinting at the earrings my mother was to give to me on my graduation, but in my mind, he was referring only to you. I had always intended to give you the earrings and the necklace someday.
It's obvious I'll never have that opportunity. But perhaps someday, when I'm out of this hell, I'll pay you another visit. Perhaps I'll see the letters accumulating there, and I'll see where the CIA opened them to be sure I'm not sending secret messages to anyone. Perhaps there will be fresh flowers, placed there by Vaughn, or your father, or Will. Or perhaps there will be none of those things, and when I leave, all that will be there will be these earrings and that necklace.