Author's notes: I didn't think I would write a post finale story, but I got an idea and followed it. Hope you enjoy. It will only a be a few chapters, posted within ten days I think. Post series finale, featuring Sydney, Katya and Irina. Everything is as it is in the show, the story starts right after the last episode. I wrote this in a few hours time and didn't have it beta read so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Please review, let me know what you think.

Summary: Katya is not happy about her sister's death, something that should have never happened. She's going to make things right again. She is a woman with a plan.


Washington and London were still standing. They'd beaten the bad guys, again.

It had been two days since her mother's death. Two days of mourning the loss of her father, who died a hero, and her mother, who died a fanatic. Was it wrong of her to mourn a criminal? She didn't think it was, didn't care if it was.

In the span of a few hours, she'd killed a lifelong enemy and put an end to a world threat, namely, Rambaldi. It had cost her both her parents, but the world was now a better place for her daughter, for her newly reunited family.

Vaughn was absent, again. He'd been shipped off to Langley for an extensive debriefing and wouldn't be back for days. He had investigated a criminal agency for years without informing the CIA. Jack had then faked his death without anyone knowing. People, important people, were angry. They weren't going to make things easy for Michael Vaughn. Those big people wanted to know everything he knew about Prophet Five. Seven years of research to explain in detail to a committee of big, angry people. Sydney hoped her fiancé was okay.

She'd just taken her daughter to the paediatrician for a check up she'd scheduled before all the madness started. She thought of cancelling it but didn't really have anything better to do. Her bruised face had raised many eyebrows in the doctor's office. It was obvious she had difficulty moving around and her hands were heavily bandaged. She'd sustained nasty cuts from all the broken glass spilled around during her battle with her mother. She looked and felt like crap, although the painkillers she was on allowed her to stand on her own two feet.

Isabelle was safely nestled in her car seat, which Sydney clutched tightly in her hands as she crossed the street. Her car was parked in an alley a few hundred feet from the doctor's office. It was a sunny day in California, she thought about taking her baby girl to the beach later in the afternoon.

Isabelle was still being fussy over the shot she'd been given, and Sydney had wanted very badly to snap the poor doctor's neck when he had administered it.

She strapped the car seat into the back of her SUV and waved her fingers at Isabelle as she closed the door. Before she could get into her own seat, she felt strong arms wrap around her neck. She scratched and clawed, but couldn't get them off. She couldn't find a spot to hit behind her either and she was running out of time. Her attacker, a woman she thought, did not say a word, only squeezed tighter and tighter.

Sydney couldn't breathe, couldn't hear anything except her own heart beating. Bright, colourful lights danced before her eyes but she didn't find them pretty. She was scared like she'd never been before. Scared that she was being strangled to death, that she would never see her daughter again. Her last thought was for her little Isabelle, helpless, so vulnerable, strapped into her car seat on the other side of the glass.

She sagged against her attacker's body and lost consciousness, forever. Or so she dreaded.