Disclaimer: Alias is the property of other people, including J.J. Abrams
and Bad Robot productions.
She would like to sit down to dinner with her family- with her sisters, as
if there were not years and so many old wounds and so much mistrust between
them. She does not trust Katya past a certain point, sometimes does not
trust Elena at all, but she misses them. They are sisters, women in a world
where still there are fewer of them than there are men...
She would like to make things clear to Katya. She appreciates what her
sister did for Sydney that Irina herself could not- but not that much. She
would like to...explain.
Jack Bristow is hers.
Katya plays her games, of course; her beauty and the ways she uses it to
keep men off balance. And she can well imagine his reaction- the things he
didn't tell her, the ones he didn't have to. Katya would have been amused,
of course, but...
Irina shakes her head. She used to wonder, when she was Sydney's age, what
it would have been like to have a normal family.
Sydney...and Jack. To see them again, have a meal with her own little
family, as if it were all alright again...
She sighs. Historical figures are really more likely dinner companions than
any member of her family.
Rambaldi, then. She has been chasing enigmas her whole life, enigmas that
are at times intimately related- to her, to her daughter. For once she
would like the truth- to sit across the table from him, to ask him what it
was really all about. All the mysteries, all the fragments of obscure
pages, invisible ink... When she was younger the chase amused her more, but
now she is tired. If the enigmas stay this obscure she will never have time
to learn all of the answers.
He would tell her, she's sure of that. One look at her, and he would tell
And if he did not, well... The woman he has so callously thrown into the
maelstrom is her *daughter*. If there were any doubt that she would go to
any length to find the truth... She would explain that, too.