The Infanta
Title: The Infanta
Date posted: 01-23-07
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Spoilers: Season Five never happened! Yaaaay!
Notes: Written for yahtzee63
"For the future, let those who come to play with me have no hearts." - Oscar Wilde, The Birthday of the Infanta.
"Do you remember?"
~*~*~
Sydney got the phone call in the morning to inform her of her father's death. He had gone quietly in the hospital that he was to be released from in the morning, and he was alone. She had hurried over to cry into his chest for one final time, holding his hand to apologize.
The sun rose.
~*~*~
"You said, 'I'd let you ruin my life.'"
~*~*~
Jack Bristow died on a cold January morning, two months after Irina and a year after Sloane. "They're all gone now," Syd had commented numbly, her jaw moving against Vaughn's shoulder. "I don't know what to do."
Sydney Bristow ('Vaughn' in parentheses, showing his disdain even in death) was named the executor of his estate, which was sizable. This Sydney had expected, fingers knotted around Vaughn's under the table. The lawyer had called her in, and to Sydney's surprise, Nadia had been outside, rocking on one of her heels. She had shrugged, saying the lawyer had called her to attend the reading of the will.
The beneficiaries named were Sydney Bristow (Vaughn) and Alejandra Santos, at which point Sydney's face went alarmingly pale and Nadia looked down at her hands.
~*~*~
"I think you meant it affectionately..."
~*~*~
Nadia had abruptly packed up and gone home to Argentina. She said she was lonesome for home- she was tired of English, tired of heat in July and cold in December. "We'll still talk," she'd told Sydney's pout, "and I can always come back if you need me."
"But why now?"
"It's been a long time coming," and she neatly folded up her last shirt and placed it in her suitcase. "You'll be fine."
~*~*~
"I didn't take it that way-"
~*~*~
Nadia was the most patient mother Sydney had ever seen. There was nothing about Alejandra that failed to delight her mother- every sound and motion was exclaimed over. In turn, Alejandra was behaved like an angel and had a face to match.
"Her father isn't the picture, Sydney," Nadia had said as she polished her toenails in the kitchen. Alejandra was in her high chair, playing peek-a-boo with Sydney.
"But you didn't even-"
"It's two thousand six," Nadia replied calmly, and held out a foot, "Does this look okay?"
Sydney nodded.
"And it's okay for me to be a single mother. I'm fine with it."
She had acquiesced, picking the baby up to kiss her. "But you're here to stay?"
Nadia nodded.
~*~*~
"How could I?"
~*~*~
"You might have told me."
"What good would it have done?"
"I would have done the right thing."
"It would have ruined everything."
"You don't know that."
"I was your secret all along. It would have killed you to tell people."
"Not people- "
"Sydney. Telling Sydney."
~*~*~
"I knew what you thought of me."
~*~*~
"Is it true?" Sydney says outside, once she has regained the ability to speak.
"Yes." She lit a cigarette, something she never let the baby see, and Sydney snatches it out of her hand, ever the big sister. She grinds it down the toe of her patent leather heels.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"It was a secret."
"A secret?" Sydney says, as if she's never heard the word, "You said the father- "
Nadia knows she'll bear the brunt of the anger because she is alive and Jack cannot be touched, not the shining memory of the father he became and the one she always longed for.
"How could you keep it from him?" Sydney hisses. "He would have been a father to her."
Nadia takes another cigarette out and lights it, and manages a drag before she has to move it out of Sydney's grasp. "He knew when we came back here."
Sydney is at a loss.
"But why- ?"
Nadia knows the answer, the one she would give and Jack as well: Sydney, always Sydney.
"Our reasons are our own."
~*~*~
"You would have let me."
~*~*~
When Jack was in the hospital, Nadia slept two hours a night so that she could visit him without Sydney knowing and without wasting time with her daughter, who spent several nights with her Aunt Sydney. Sometimes he would wake up and talk to her, losing lucidity several times, calling her Irina three times and Laura twice.
"I'm going to tell Sydney," he said, his voice weak, "I'll tell her the truth."
"Shh," she'd said, and she patted his hand. "Don't worry about that now."
"I'll do right by her-"
"I know, mi amor," and she'd never once used an endearment on him before, but now it was easy, in the middle of the night and his life fading, "That can wait 'til morning."
"Where's Sydney?"
"At home, asleep. She's safe."
"And the baby?"
(Alejandra is five.)
"She's with Sydney too."
"I'm sorry I'm- I'm so tired." His voice was breaking, and she had a feeling, cold and deep in her stomach, that told her the truth.
She kept her voice steady. "That's fine, Jack. Get some rest."
"I don't-"
"It's okay." She clasped his hands with both of hers and blinked quickly. "We'll manage."
Jack Bristow died quietly at three in the morning. Nadia knew her way around hospitals- how to place a heart monitor on herself so as not to alert the nursing staff. She sat with him until she could bear it no longer and slipped out.
~*~*~
"And I hated you for it."
~*~*~
The funeral is the twenty-fifth, and Alejandra stays with the Flinkmans with Sydney's young daughter. Sydney and Nadia wear matching black sunglasses. Sydney controls herself very well, crying without noise as she clings to Vaughn's arm. She is the only one who gives a eulogy, poised and tragic. Nadia longs for a cigarette, which is a bad habit she'll quit soon.
When they lower the casket, Sydney reaches for Nadia's hand and grips it tight.
"I want to say it'll be okay," Syd whispers, "but it won't, will it?"
"It will," Nadia says, "Or he would've hung on longer."
~*~*~
Nadia held Jack's hand, her fingers laced through his.
"Do you remember, Jack?" she said softly, "You said, 'I'd let you ruin my life.' I think you meant it affectionately, the kind of things lovers say to one another. I didn't take it that way- how could I?" She swallows and dabbed at her eyes. "I knew what you thought of me." She stopped and put her other hand over his.
"You would have let me. And I hated you for it."
(Her heartbeat replaces his.)
Date posted: 01-23-07
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Spoilers: Season Five never happened! Yaaaay!
Notes: Written for yahtzee63
"For the future, let those who come to play with me have no hearts." - Oscar Wilde, The Birthday of the Infanta.
"Do you remember?"
~*~*~
Sydney got the phone call in the morning to inform her of her father's death. He had gone quietly in the hospital that he was to be released from in the morning, and he was alone. She had hurried over to cry into his chest for one final time, holding his hand to apologize.
The sun rose.
~*~*~
"You said, 'I'd let you ruin my life.'"
~*~*~
Jack Bristow died on a cold January morning, two months after Irina and a year after Sloane. "They're all gone now," Syd had commented numbly, her jaw moving against Vaughn's shoulder. "I don't know what to do."
Sydney Bristow ('Vaughn' in parentheses, showing his disdain even in death) was named the executor of his estate, which was sizable. This Sydney had expected, fingers knotted around Vaughn's under the table. The lawyer had called her in, and to Sydney's surprise, Nadia had been outside, rocking on one of her heels. She had shrugged, saying the lawyer had called her to attend the reading of the will.
The beneficiaries named were Sydney Bristow (Vaughn) and Alejandra Santos, at which point Sydney's face went alarmingly pale and Nadia looked down at her hands.
~*~*~
"I think you meant it affectionately..."
~*~*~
Nadia had abruptly packed up and gone home to Argentina. She said she was lonesome for home- she was tired of English, tired of heat in July and cold in December. "We'll still talk," she'd told Sydney's pout, "and I can always come back if you need me."
"But why now?"
"It's been a long time coming," and she neatly folded up her last shirt and placed it in her suitcase. "You'll be fine."
~*~*~
"I didn't take it that way-"
~*~*~
Nadia was the most patient mother Sydney had ever seen. There was nothing about Alejandra that failed to delight her mother- every sound and motion was exclaimed over. In turn, Alejandra was behaved like an angel and had a face to match.
"Her father isn't the picture, Sydney," Nadia had said as she polished her toenails in the kitchen. Alejandra was in her high chair, playing peek-a-boo with Sydney.
"But you didn't even-"
"It's two thousand six," Nadia replied calmly, and held out a foot, "Does this look okay?"
Sydney nodded.
"And it's okay for me to be a single mother. I'm fine with it."
She had acquiesced, picking the baby up to kiss her. "But you're here to stay?"
Nadia nodded.
~*~*~
"How could I?"
~*~*~
"You might have told me."
"What good would it have done?"
"I would have done the right thing."
"It would have ruined everything."
"You don't know that."
"I was your secret all along. It would have killed you to tell people."
"Not people- "
"Sydney. Telling Sydney."
~*~*~
"I knew what you thought of me."
~*~*~
"Is it true?" Sydney says outside, once she has regained the ability to speak.
"Yes." She lit a cigarette, something she never let the baby see, and Sydney snatches it out of her hand, ever the big sister. She grinds it down the toe of her patent leather heels.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"It was a secret."
"A secret?" Sydney says, as if she's never heard the word, "You said the father- "
Nadia knows she'll bear the brunt of the anger because she is alive and Jack cannot be touched, not the shining memory of the father he became and the one she always longed for.
"How could you keep it from him?" Sydney hisses. "He would have been a father to her."
Nadia takes another cigarette out and lights it, and manages a drag before she has to move it out of Sydney's grasp. "He knew when we came back here."
Sydney is at a loss.
"But why- ?"
Nadia knows the answer, the one she would give and Jack as well: Sydney, always Sydney.
"Our reasons are our own."
~*~*~
"You would have let me."
~*~*~
When Jack was in the hospital, Nadia slept two hours a night so that she could visit him without Sydney knowing and without wasting time with her daughter, who spent several nights with her Aunt Sydney. Sometimes he would wake up and talk to her, losing lucidity several times, calling her Irina three times and Laura twice.
"I'm going to tell Sydney," he said, his voice weak, "I'll tell her the truth."
"Shh," she'd said, and she patted his hand. "Don't worry about that now."
"I'll do right by her-"
"I know, mi amor," and she'd never once used an endearment on him before, but now it was easy, in the middle of the night and his life fading, "That can wait 'til morning."
"Where's Sydney?"
"At home, asleep. She's safe."
"And the baby?"
(Alejandra is five.)
"She's with Sydney too."
"I'm sorry I'm- I'm so tired." His voice was breaking, and she had a feeling, cold and deep in her stomach, that told her the truth.
She kept her voice steady. "That's fine, Jack. Get some rest."
"I don't-"
"It's okay." She clasped his hands with both of hers and blinked quickly. "We'll manage."
Jack Bristow died quietly at three in the morning. Nadia knew her way around hospitals- how to place a heart monitor on herself so as not to alert the nursing staff. She sat with him until she could bear it no longer and slipped out.
~*~*~
"And I hated you for it."
~*~*~
The funeral is the twenty-fifth, and Alejandra stays with the Flinkmans with Sydney's young daughter. Sydney and Nadia wear matching black sunglasses. Sydney controls herself very well, crying without noise as she clings to Vaughn's arm. She is the only one who gives a eulogy, poised and tragic. Nadia longs for a cigarette, which is a bad habit she'll quit soon.
When they lower the casket, Sydney reaches for Nadia's hand and grips it tight.
"I want to say it'll be okay," Syd whispers, "but it won't, will it?"
"It will," Nadia says, "Or he would've hung on longer."
~*~*~
Nadia held Jack's hand, her fingers laced through his.
"Do you remember, Jack?" she said softly, "You said, 'I'd let you ruin my life.' I think you meant it affectionately, the kind of things lovers say to one another. I didn't take it that way- how could I?" She swallows and dabbed at her eyes. "I knew what you thought of me." She stopped and put her other hand over his.
"You would have let me. And I hated you for it."
(Her heartbeat replaces his.)