irina_derevko: (Fallen (_ladydisdain))
[personal profile] irina_derevko
Dear Mama,

I have hated you and I have loved you, and often both at once. You were hard on us in many ways because you had to be, and there were lessons we needed to learn. I understand. Now that I am a mother, I understand. But I have not raised my daughters as you raised us.

In truth I have hardly raised them at all. I was there only for Sydney's first few years, and for none of Nadia's. For my mistakes and my sins, and the burdens I bear for the sake of necessity, I have paid this price. I wish that things might have been different, but it was not to be.

I regret that you have never known my daughters. They are... The best of me, and the best of their fathers, better than we might ever hope to be. Better than I deserve by far.

They are my redemption.

When I was a girl you held me responsible for my sisters. I was eldest, and I should know best, and look after them. I tried. I tried even after your death, as I had promised you that I would. Father expected it of me, and he was with us so seldom that I had no choice. If I had not taken responsibility for Katya and Elena, who would have done so in my place? Uncle Gregori looked in on us when he could, and he would give me money when he could spare it, but more often, we were on our own.

I was seventeen when you died- still a child, in some ways never a child. I did what I felt I must. And it was Gregori who saw me off to America, because you were not there to do it. I missed you then, so much, as I hadn't in years. I needed you. You of all my kin, would have understood what I went to do, and why. You would have believed that it was, that it would be, worth it. I was never sure what Uncle Gregori believed.

America was a revelation to me, a rebirth. For so many years I was not Irina, but Laura. IN a strange way I became her, became more than legend and alias. She was real to me, as she was real to Jack and to Sydney. I hated her sometimes, but mostly I envied her.

I longed to be her.

In the end she was only a fiction I had to renounce and set aside, and I have always been sorry for it. If I had understood then...

If I had known, if I had trusted... And even now, these words come hard to me.

If I had been anyone else's daughter but yours, I would have better understood trust, and love, and I would have stayed.

If I had known, had even suspected, that I was carrying Nadia then, I would have stayed.

But perhaps, too, if you had still been alive, what happened to me when I came back to the motherland would not have happened. Your legacy was not enough to protect me, as I sometimes think that your presence might have done.

Nadia was so small when she was born, fragile as Sydney had been. I felt her vulnerability, her fragility, when for one moment I held her in my arms, before they came to take her from me. I fought them, of course. Though I was so worn and weary from the birth, and all that had come before it, I fought them. I paid for it later, as I had known I would, but I was past caring. It did not seem to matter much what was done to me then. Both of my children were lost to me, and I wondered if I would ever see them again.

I wondered sometimes if I would ever see the sun again. It was all so dark then.

For years I have not explained myself to anyone, even those to whom I owed answers, explanations. But I tell you this so that you might understand, some of what I have done, and why.

I make no apologies for what I have done. It was necessary. More than that, it was the only way. If I had been given another choice, I would have taken it. But Elena, by her own actions, gave me no other choice.

I suppose you would have understood that much. I was the one who never asked you what had happened to Aunt Sofia. (Elena, I think, never forgave you for that, and I am certain that she never understood it.)

It was more than her betrayal of me- that was only the beginning. More, it was for Nadia and Sydney, and her betrayals of them, that I did what I felt necessary.

Her death is one that I find I cannot regret much. The necessity of it, yes, but not the act itself. I had no choice.

I had warned her, while I could, but she was never one to let anyone deter her from the course she had chosen, no matter what was said.

If she had listened, she might have lived.

Or perhaps not. Ours was not the only bond of bloody she had chosen to betray, and I not the only one who could have called her to answer for it.

I saw her buried, of course. I had not loved her well, or very much, but blood is blood. You taught me that much, and I remember. Though I admit, I did take a moment to consider before I saw it done.

It haunts me, of course. As Sofia haunted you. Necessity does not change much. We act, but still we must live with what we have done.

For a time I was able to fool myself into thinking that I had been wrong, that I had been the one meant by the prophecy, and not Sydney. That with Elena's death, it had ended. I know better now. I feel it, as I have before, that I told my daughter the truth. it is her. She is chosen.

I am afraid.

It has taken me so long to come to this point, so long to find them again. So long to regain Sydney's trust, so long just to see Nadia's face. And I wonder now if I will lose them again, now, forever.

I believe, Mama. I wish that I could doubt, I wish that I could be skeptical, as Sydney is, as Nadia is, but I cannot. I know too much, have studied and searched too long, and seen too many of Rambaldi's predictions come true.

I believe, not in fate, but in potential. This world has the potential to be as Rambaldi saw it. My daughters have the potential to be as he saw them. they also have the potential to be something else. Something more than destiny.

I hope that they can do it, that they are strong enough to do it. I will do whatever I can to see them free of this, forever.

But I am afraid.


Muse: Irina Derevko
Fandom: Alias
Words: 1,193


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Irina Derevko

March 2015

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