Title: Every Action

Spoilers: Passage, Pt. 2

Author: GataFairy (the cat fairy)

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG-13, for extreme speculativity

Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine. Except my computer. And books. Lots of books.

Archiving/distribution: No problem — just tell me where so I can go see it. ^_^

AN:
This turned out much more speculative about truth than planned. In fact, I had never planned to speculatate about truth. Heh… Well, in my defense, I should say that this is all based on the assumption (and undying wish!) that Irina is not evil incarnate.

“…so I could escape, you idiot! …”

Irina Derevko had not been harsh. She had been honest. And if the truth was painful, it wasn’t her fault. Of course, there was also the fact that her experience with the truth was rather minimal, and so bluntness was only a natural appurtenance to her use of it. But that was no indication that the truth was meant to be gentle. She was human, she did feel, and she was not lying to him. Or to her daughter. Given the circumstances, the word daughter should have been left out of her vocabulary, but it was those very circumstances that encouraged its use.

That was the truth of the matter.

But it was not the matter to be considered. Given the circumstances, of course.

Still, her mind was remarkably clear. She guided herself along the halls with very little effort, allowing the thoughts in the back of her mind to flicker from place to place. When they landed on something of higher importance than most — to some people, everything she knew was important —, they would drift forward and she would halt the continual downpour of situations, outcomes, and possibilities for the current situation. The truth, thought she, was a painful sort of thing — something to be used carefully. Only the truth made lies painful. In consequence, it is not lies themselves that are painful, but the truth behind them that makes them seem such.

‘That settles everything.’

A plan weaved itself through the reflections on which most of her attention had focused and, having revised it, she gave herself mental confirmation. It would hurt them momentarily. ‘Because they’ll believe it’s true.’

So it was never a lie that hurt, but a truth. A lie made truth.

‘Smart as you both are, you’re far too easy lie to. But that’s what makes everything work in the end — your intelligence.’

And wisdom. But wisdom was not something that both the other two possessed. Sydney was still young and rather naive. But Jack — Jack knew what was going where and when it would hit. It was something that came only with experience, and he had plenty of it. She thought, with a rather grim smile to herself, ‘I helped make sure of that.’

And yet even with experience there was the occasional error. It was less common than in those who were still raw and new, but there was always the chance for error. The fact that they were human guaranteed that.

‘Humankind is so amusing. So amusing. …’

She was not surprised by the sudden arrival at her intended destination. Rather, she had expected to be there sooner. A simple miscalculation with hardly any value, that was all it was. It was quickly cleared from her mind as estimates upon calculations upon possibilities flooded her senses and kept her alert. Though she already knew what she was going to do, fresh options came down again, and it was that particular trait that some said was the most valuable to her profession. To her, it simply quelled the embers of nervousness and anxiety that periodically swept by.

She walked inside, and upon seeing who was there, she gave half a sly yet minimally coy grin and shut the door behind her with a soft click.

In truth, it had not been her full intention to carry on with the mission this particular way. When she walked inside Gerard Cuvee’s office she had not expected him to be there. Luckily, the usual barrage of options made her reflexes quicker than was normal and she was able to keep herself composed. That was one of her most useful abilities. Deception. ‘That which hurts only those who know it is not the truth.’ She walked confidently behind Cuvee and the men with him, taking her time to fall behind a bit.

Dramatic though her entrance was, it was, for the most part, a show of loyalties. That was what it was meant to look like, and judging from the looks on the Americans’ faces, she had achieved her goal. But she knew she would — she knew the minute she stepped into Cuvee’s office. Her gaze flickered to the Asian man, a convincing smirk lighting up her features, placed a hand on his shoulder in a display of further treason to the Bristows, and gave the two an icy stare.

It was not something she enjoyed in the least, knowing her daughter and former husband felt utterly betrayed. She had been the one part of their lives that had turned everything upside-down — even at that moment she was still the problem. But everything was going well. Killing the new prisoners was a thing which was still not in sight, and that, at least, was reassuring. She knew better than to feel sure about anything, of course. However, she was human.

Human.

Which was why she had trained herself to keep emotions out of the way for the majority of daily life. In the end, that was a crucial part in reaching the objective in any task assigned to her because it allowed for no intereference. Focus was what allowed her to lie so easily. Focus was what gave her the strength of self to kiss Cuvee and not blow her cover. Focus was what would save her daughter, the man who at the moment hated her deeply, and herself.

“He’ll talk,” she calmly reassured him. “He will talk.”

He would talk to their daughter and repeat what she was going to tell him to the young woman.

The cell door closed rather loudly. Or maybe that was the effect produced by the echo. All her senses were on their highest level of perception. Her face was a mask, whereas her daughter’s was not — even from where she stood, even though she looked not directly across the hallway, she could see the helplessness and despair Sydney felt on her face, in her eyes, in the way she moved, breathed, cried.

Knowing that she was the one who was making her suffer only made the older woman’s objective clearer. It only made her more sure that she was going about it the right way. It would only take a little more time. An hour or so. She wanted to see Sydney happy. Or at least not in despair.

Events transpired quickly. Irina was only vaguely aware of time as she absorbed everything at a heightened awareness. It was almost as if she wasn’t entirely there. So determined was she that her movements appeared fluent and natural. All she said and did while still in Cuvee’s presence was second nature. Every millimeter of movement, every microsecond of silence, every barely audible breath — they all made themselves known to her hyperperceptive senses.

And then rather suddenly, it was made known that Sark was on the phone, and Cuvee left her to draw out information from Jack Bristow.

She grabbed his hands and pushed him back, all the while giving him a deep stare. He did not notice the small keys she pushed into his hand.

“I was caught,” she began explaining, lowering her voice considerably. “I had to do this or we’d all be killed.”

Now she had his full attention; what had originally been a look full of hate turned into a gaze that told her he understood. But even then she saw that his full trust was not with her. She needed no encouragement to continue speaking.

“They’re not detonating the nukes. Here’s what you have to do…”

In a whisper she told him where she would be in a few mintues and why. Still hyperaware, she forced herself to keep her senses in check and not leave out any information, task which to someone less experienced might have proven difficult but was rather like a blink to Irina.

When she was done she stood up straight, gun still pointing at him, looking down on him as a conqueror would the conquered. She saw movement to her right, noticed the increase in her frightened daughter’s level of desperation, and then spoke once more.

“Trust me on this,” she intoned as a command and plea. “If you don’t make it out, I’m sorry this happened.”

She let go of his hands, lifted her left arm, and delivered a mighty blow with the hard gun in her hand to the side of Jack’s mouth, then ordered that the cell door be opened for her after he had cried out. And then she left, her stride quick and confident, her heartbeat increasing but a little as she replaced her mask. Her next lie was prepared in a fragment of a second, and the comfort of knowing that a previous one would be fixed came immediately after that.

Lies only hurt when there was a truth or belief of their veracity behind them, but in this case the truth would be an ointment for a wound.

And she was glad to know that she had delivered both of them.

Anticipation saturated the entirety of the room. The nuclear cores were just about to be activated, another secret of Rambaldi soon to be discovered. At least, that was what was hoped for. But the woman once known as The Man had formulated her opinion very quickly upon hearing what was planned. ‘What they’ll find is just another piece to the puzzle, which will probably make his mysteries more obscure.’

The final core was put in the final cylinder, and the device they were powering whirred to life. The power output was increased; Cuvee leaned forward, watching, waiting, just as everyone else. It was made known to Irina that he was the only person besides herself in whom there was an absence of fear. It was because he was the source of the others’ fears. ‘Leader though you may be, you’re as much of a coward as all the others.’ Fear struck everyone. It is only the strong who can withstand it without breaking.

How hard it is to reach true strength.

The egg-shaped container opened, revealing a flower that looked as if it had been just recently placed inside it. The “fearless leader” stepped forth, and just as he was about to perform his next action, there was heard a loud crash, like an explosion, and the building shook with great force. Cuvee’s subordinates ran, gathering whatever they could to take with them, until only the artifact, the leader, and the woman who would betray him remained. The gray-haired man pulled the flower out of the container. She gave him a seconds-long look, then spun and kicked him in the stomach. He pointed his gun right at her, the look in his eyes almost venomous. But then Jack came and after a short exchange of blows to Cuvee, rendered him unconscious.

For a few seconds, Irina and Jack looked at each other, communicating what they felt non-verbally. Thought she, ‘It worked, but I’m still sorry it happened.’ Then his gaze flickered to their daughter, who held the flower from the artifact in her hands. She looked almost fully confused.

“A flower? That’s what this is all about?” she asked.

However, there was no time left for contemplation. Jack made this known out loud, saying, “We need to get the cores and get out of here.”

The sound of planes flying past accompanied the family of three as they collected the cores and exited the prison. Family… That word encompassed an immensity of things. It was almost surprising to have it come up at that precise moment. Options and outcomes had not ceased to sprout in Irina’s mind, and yet that one word was able to make them halt just as they stepped into the light of the outside. In Jack’s hands was the briefcase which held the nuclear cores; in Sydney’s was the yellow flower.

A helicopter landed just as the three turned at the piece of land that rose above them. They stopped to look. Leaning out from it was someone else the Russian woman had hurt.

“It’s Vaughn!” Sydney proclaimed.

The three ran to the helicopter. The first one to enter was, for reasons obvious, Irina. Again, little time was left for anything other than pure focus, and again Jack was the one to press on with this.

“Got the cores!” he yelled over the noises of the helicopter. “Tell them to call off the air strikes!”

As they lifted off the ground, Agent Vaughn made the situation known, and the air strikes ceased.

Since there was no longer a tense situation surrounding her, the barrage of outcomes and situations stopped coming to Irina, and now all that came in was speculation and memories. Speculation, memories, or simply nothing at all. Thinking back, she was rather unsurprised that she had suddenly found herself thinking of Sydney, Jack, and herself as a family. She obviously wasn’t the only one who thougt that. Judging from various reactions throughout the mission, she had seen that. She saw it most in Sydney. That was why it had hurt so much to lie. That why she was so grateful for her focus.

Casting a sidelong glance cross the width of where they sat, she noticed the looks on the other three’s faces. Jack looked as impassive as ever, which was expected, though there was a trace of relief and possibly even nostalgia in his usually emotionless eyes. Sydney was a bundle of emotions, try as she might to keep them in check. She was relieved and looked the tiniest bit happy, though Irina had her reasons for believing that the emotion had a lot more behind it than the success of their endeavor. She saw the same look in Vaughn's semblance. She couldn't say she hadn't tried to help them, but she could do nothing if they didn't act.

But also seen was that the happiness ran deep. The glow in her daughter’s eyes was far too strong to be caused by a flitting moment of victory. The feeling came from the depths of her. It was the excitement that was felt at the heart, the kind that makes one smile to the point of tears. Sitting there, looking at the beautiful, strong young woman that was her daughter, Irina Derevko shared the feeling that increased with every beat of her heart, growing so strong that had the circumstances been different, she would have lept up and given Sydney the hug she wanted to give her.

They exchanged glances, mother and daughter, for hardly a second. But that was all they needed. ‘Yes, Sydney,’ said the older woman’s eyes. ‘I am your mother.’

Two pairs of feet emited receding footsteps. The bars that sealed The Man deeper in her cage rose and fell accordingly. There were, as promised, the bedding articles she had requested. A small smile crept across her face as she heard the steps grow more silent. But amidst the usual clattering noises she heard a third pair of feet, stepping lightly, cautiously, coming ever nearer to the prison, stopping right in front of her.

Irina stood across from Sydney. A scan of the younger woman’s eyes determined many a thing, but rating highest among them was the need for the truth, the real truth, and nothing else but the truth.

And this time, this time the truth would be sweet.

“You must have a lot of questions,” she began.

Sydney breathed a bit deeply. “Yeah.”

“One thing that should not wait any longer is why I shot you in Taipei.” She gave an imperceptible pause, almost as though she were thinking twice, when in reality she was thinking for the thousandth time that yes, this was the way Sydney would find out. “The rebel leader, Gerard Cuvee… When you were in Taipei, he was in the next room watching to see if I would betray him or you. Shooting you in the shoulder, giving you time to escape — it was the only way I could think to maintain his trust and keep him from killing both of us.”

When Sydney smiled; that one gesture said more than a photograph. Instantly, Irina smiled back. And then her primary concern came forth once again: the well-being of her daughter.

“We’re both tired,” she said simply. “You should get some rest.”

For a split second her daughter’s eyes were unreadable. But when she spoke that barrier broke down.

“You too…” Sydney gave another smile, this one deeper and flooding her brown eyes completely with what it expressed, and concluded, “…Mom.”

She left rather suddenly after that. It was, truly, the best choice of action. And it didn’t matter that Irina was alone now, because that was really what she needed. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in a far too long period, let a tear fall and make its temporary shimmering trail on her cheek. When she opened them once more, her daughter’s shadow disappeared, and she smiled. The truth had taken time, just as she had told her three months ago. Three months — that was the time it had taken to obtain the trust she had lost so long ago when her daughter had discovered the truth. Thinking back, it had been wise but painful to shoot Sydney in Taipei. But that was all part of a greater scheme, and now she had revealed this to the young woman. And now… Now she was a mother again.

And that truth was beautiful.

(AN: Cue Slumber, My Darling — now!)