Interventions
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter Three: Now And Then * * * * * *
"My mother isn't someone to trust." I said those words once before. After the lies and her angelic shell had been broken. Underneath was a liar, a thief, and a murderer. But somewhere deep inside, she held onto her first disguise. And in all truth, it wasn't the one fake we thought we knew.
She told me that when I was little that things aren't what we always planned. My whole life, I once considered, could have been different. No more lies to Francie about work, no more pangs of guilt would be felt for mom, no reddened cheeks stained with tears of countless innocence. I could have my friends, my father, a normal life. But then again, could I?
I wouldn't have met my real father, just another mask I see once a year for Christmas, who presents me with a sweater unsure of what to get. I wouldn't have my mother, who I had wished to see just once more my entire life. Or have a major secret I could share with Will. And then again I would be married, tied by the ball and chain of death-do-us-part responsibility.
There was another reason, one I refuse to admit, but everyone else does. If I hadn't involved my life with espionage, I'd never would have a chance with Michael Vaughn. Instead, I would be happily married. Happy? How so? Because I would have never expected more from Danny. Danny showed me that there were singing proposals and two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. But there could be unspoken language, something he couldn't bestow upon me. A smile, a gesture of a shoulder, and soul bearing glimmer of an eye. But I would have been contented, unknowing on what I would have been missing.
Over and over, she would tell the story of how she met dad and the lucky necklace that nailed him. I always thought it was funny that a necklace could out do dad, but I think it over and reflect and I seems logical from Milo Rambaldi's point of view.
My mother was prophesized to bring all hell to earth, and in a way she did. She desecrated her bonds of marriage with a lie, abandoned her child, slaughtered those in her way, and raised an empire of bandits and assassins, and now she has waltzed back into my life. But, she breathes the same air as me so does that make her so different. After all, I am my mother's daughter.
As I leave the presence of bitterness and deceit, I feel shunned by the world. The blood on my hands, the mutilated lives, and the countless people I wear. For this I must repent. And my savior knows not how I feel.
I'll deal with him later, I always say, but later never comes. I have too many problems and too much history. I'll make up a To Do list and put him down as number 2, since I still have to dig up that pendant. And times always running out.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Down the stairs, first room on your left," the receptionist smiled gleefully. Right then and there Sydney Bristow willed herself not to drop kick her from her cheerfulness. But her brain told her that her mother wanted to hurt her by playing mind games. Then again, sometimes, Irina could be kind and compassionate. Sydney wished she could conceive her mother's intentions.
"Good morning, Agent Bristow."
"Good work in Nice."
Sydney angrily discharged their comments with her inherited death glare and stormed off into the evidence room. Right now the only person she wanted, deserved to hear it from was Vaughn and of all the days, he choose this one to take off.
Walking down the aisles, she stormed up little tornadoes of dust. She drew her finger upon the D sections, skimming the plastic sealed devices and papers. Pausing at the folder marked Classified: Derevko, Irina. She released bits of stale air to the off-white booklet. Reaching for the first unstapled page, she leisurely removed a black and white photo. As she held it to the light, she shifted her free hand to her mouth. Before her was a picture of a man identical to Vaughn encircled with his cold blood still holding his CIA issued gun. Just then, she heard the door to the room creak open.
Hurriedly, she condemned the picture to its secretive grave and fished out a small amber pendant. She enclosed it in her palm and turned to face her intruder. "Hello, Dad."
"Sydney," he nodded his head in recognition to what she was holding. Almost like a guilty child with stolen candy in her hand, she twisted her wrist and lifted her grasp drawing out the tear-drop shaped adornment.
Wearily he unwrapped the ornament and hitched open the clasp. Signaling for her to pull back her hair, she snapped the hook and securely fastened it to her neck. In a whisper he smiled, "It looks good on you."
She simply grinned. Then he continued his father charade, "Did you're mother tell you of that necklace. She probably did."
"Yeah, she told me how it supposedly destined you to meet."
"Yes, it was a nice story," he frowned slightly as if her existence made him a hundred years older, "Be careful, she charmed her way to me, she can do the same."
Sydney faintly fumed, "Can. It doesn't mean she will."
"It doesn't mean she won't," he replied as the bridge they built over the year crumbled in front of his eyes, "Good evening, Sydney." He stepped from the under the overhead light leaving Sydney to contemplate his words.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When all goes chaotic, Jack comes riding in on his white horse to create more mishaps.
Hope you liked it. REVIEW.
~Stephanie~
Summary: Irina causes chaos between our two favorite agents and others.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter Three: Now And Then * * * * * *
"My mother isn't someone to trust." I said those words once before. After the lies and her angelic shell had been broken. Underneath was a liar, a thief, and a murderer. But somewhere deep inside, she held onto her first disguise. And in all truth, it wasn't the one fake we thought we knew.
She told me that when I was little that things aren't what we always planned. My whole life, I once considered, could have been different. No more lies to Francie about work, no more pangs of guilt would be felt for mom, no reddened cheeks stained with tears of countless innocence. I could have my friends, my father, a normal life. But then again, could I?
I wouldn't have met my real father, just another mask I see once a year for Christmas, who presents me with a sweater unsure of what to get. I wouldn't have my mother, who I had wished to see just once more my entire life. Or have a major secret I could share with Will. And then again I would be married, tied by the ball and chain of death-do-us-part responsibility.
There was another reason, one I refuse to admit, but everyone else does. If I hadn't involved my life with espionage, I'd never would have a chance with Michael Vaughn. Instead, I would be happily married. Happy? How so? Because I would have never expected more from Danny. Danny showed me that there were singing proposals and two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. But there could be unspoken language, something he couldn't bestow upon me. A smile, a gesture of a shoulder, and soul bearing glimmer of an eye. But I would have been contented, unknowing on what I would have been missing.
Over and over, she would tell the story of how she met dad and the lucky necklace that nailed him. I always thought it was funny that a necklace could out do dad, but I think it over and reflect and I seems logical from Milo Rambaldi's point of view.
My mother was prophesized to bring all hell to earth, and in a way she did. She desecrated her bonds of marriage with a lie, abandoned her child, slaughtered those in her way, and raised an empire of bandits and assassins, and now she has waltzed back into my life. But, she breathes the same air as me so does that make her so different. After all, I am my mother's daughter.
As I leave the presence of bitterness and deceit, I feel shunned by the world. The blood on my hands, the mutilated lives, and the countless people I wear. For this I must repent. And my savior knows not how I feel.
I'll deal with him later, I always say, but later never comes. I have too many problems and too much history. I'll make up a To Do list and put him down as number 2, since I still have to dig up that pendant. And times always running out.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Down the stairs, first room on your left," the receptionist smiled gleefully. Right then and there Sydney Bristow willed herself not to drop kick her from her cheerfulness. But her brain told her that her mother wanted to hurt her by playing mind games. Then again, sometimes, Irina could be kind and compassionate. Sydney wished she could conceive her mother's intentions.
"Good morning, Agent Bristow."
"Good work in Nice."
Sydney angrily discharged their comments with her inherited death glare and stormed off into the evidence room. Right now the only person she wanted, deserved to hear it from was Vaughn and of all the days, he choose this one to take off.
Walking down the aisles, she stormed up little tornadoes of dust. She drew her finger upon the D sections, skimming the plastic sealed devices and papers. Pausing at the folder marked Classified: Derevko, Irina. She released bits of stale air to the off-white booklet. Reaching for the first unstapled page, she leisurely removed a black and white photo. As she held it to the light, she shifted her free hand to her mouth. Before her was a picture of a man identical to Vaughn encircled with his cold blood still holding his CIA issued gun. Just then, she heard the door to the room creak open.
Hurriedly, she condemned the picture to its secretive grave and fished out a small amber pendant. She enclosed it in her palm and turned to face her intruder. "Hello, Dad."
"Sydney," he nodded his head in recognition to what she was holding. Almost like a guilty child with stolen candy in her hand, she twisted her wrist and lifted her grasp drawing out the tear-drop shaped adornment.
Wearily he unwrapped the ornament and hitched open the clasp. Signaling for her to pull back her hair, she snapped the hook and securely fastened it to her neck. In a whisper he smiled, "It looks good on you."
She simply grinned. Then he continued his father charade, "Did you're mother tell you of that necklace. She probably did."
"Yeah, she told me how it supposedly destined you to meet."
"Yes, it was a nice story," he frowned slightly as if her existence made him a hundred years older, "Be careful, she charmed her way to me, she can do the same."
Sydney faintly fumed, "Can. It doesn't mean she will."
"It doesn't mean she won't," he replied as the bridge they built over the year crumbled in front of his eyes, "Good evening, Sydney." He stepped from the under the overhead light leaving Sydney to contemplate his words.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When all goes chaotic, Jack comes riding in on his white horse to create more mishaps.
Hope you liked it. REVIEW.
~Stephanie~
