Teaser: Sydney meets up with Marina's complicated love connections. And she thought her lovelife was bad.
Series: Nothing to Write Home About, Story VII
Crossover: Alias/The L Word
Characters:Marina & Sydney - Jenny, Tim & Francesca

--

"Sydney Bristow."

"It's Marina."

With Marina, there were never greetings. No, 'Hi, how are you's or 'What's up, dude'? No, Marina merely announced her presence, and from the first breath in, Sydney always knew who it was.

Maybe Marina was giving her a minute to brace herself. Sometimes, Sydney felt like she needed it.

Glancing about the office, and allowing the small, tired smile to crease over her face, she settled back.

"Hey..."

"You sound tired," she answered gently.

"I am," Sydney admitted, running a hand through the slicked back part of her hair. Life in the CIA was never without its complications, but to be firmly entrenched in what could only be described as a catastrophic love triangle, all the while wondering where your disappearing mother went, and having guns pointed at your head day after day, seemed a little over-kill, even for her. "But it's good to hear from you," she added. And it was. Life had been hectic, and she missed Marina and her uncomplicated life.

In a whirlwind of Sydney's chaos, it was addicting to delve into the peaceful tranquility of Marina's world. To sit in her café, and laugh with her crazy friends, drink coffee and know that there was a real life out there that did not include murder, mayhem, and heartbreak, was refreshing.

It was her balm, soothing on her wounds.

"Yes, it's been a while," Marina agreed, small smirk on the back of her tone that made Sydney's smile widen, unable to check it even when Weiss cast her a slightly bewildered 'what's so funny' look.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"What are you doing tonight?" Marina asked frankly.

Sydney shrugged, a small laugh emerging as she shrugged. "Miracle of all miracles, I'm actually free. Barring another nuclear crisis or terrorist threat."

"Good, then you're coming to dinner with me tonight. I want you to meet Francesca."

Francesca. The name didn't register, and it should have, given with how familiar Marina made her sound. Quickly, Sydney sorted through her friends, remembering with fondness a girl she considered her own friend as well - the androgynous sex magnet Shane. Then there was nosey Alice, dorky but cute Dana Fairbanks, the ones she was introduced to for like a second - sweet tempered Tina and icy Bette...

But Francesca?

"Who's Francesca?" Sydney asked, blinking once.

"My girlfriend," Marina answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to pull a girlfriend out of thin air.

"Oh..." Sydney scratched at her head, suddenly unsure as to why she felt so bewildered. "You have a girlfriend?" It must have been new- because as far as Sydney knew, her friends still thought she was dating her.

"Do you really want me to explain this right now?" Marina asked, voice a little heavier, a bit more amused.

"No..." Sydney rolled her eyes, glancing at the clock. "I guess you can do it over dinner."

"Good," Marina said, seemingly ignoring the continued bewildered state of her cousin. "Do you know where The Abbey is?"

--

The Abbey was in West Hollywood, which didn't surprise Sydney. Sleek, cool and chic, the restaurant was an open-air courtyard hidden in a corner of Robertson, with tables in the front and, as Marina's reservations specified, soft Indian style lounging cushions in the back.

It was also very, very, gay. Well – there seemed to be some straight people milling about. But plenty gay.

Not that it really bothered Sydney, she had almost come to expect it from her cousin. The little pseudo-European bohemian air could only be matched by the obvious gay bar next door, and of course, Marina had picked a night where it was 'girl's night', so women were spilling out in droves, into the restaurant.

Sydney held tight to her purse as she nearly had to elbow her way inside the Abbey's gates, eyes peeled for Marina. There were women everywhere, and Sydney saw no sign of an Amoral European closeted ex-spy.

"God," she whispered, taking in a breath. "What I wouldn't give for Marshall and some nipple cams right now."

There was a bar, hidden somewhere in the back, and shouldering past some women who were staring way too intently at her chest, Sydney made her way toward it. Unfortunately, someone else wasn't watching their direction half as well, and suddenly there was a squeak and a splash of something horribly cold all over Sydney's chest.

"Crap!'

"Oh, fuck - I'm sorry!'

"Wow - that's... sorry, dude."

Sydney blinked, stepping back as well as she could in the crowd, wiping frantically as the drink seeped into the shirt, creating a bit of a chill against her breasts.

"Oh, my God - I'm so sorry," said the offender again, a small girl with too-long hair and porcelain features. She looked absolutely horror-struck, so stunned she just stood there.

Fortunately for Sydney, her friend seemed a bit less shocked, reaching forward with her napkin and haphazardly trying to wipe at Sydney's shirt. "Dude seriously-"

"I can do it," Sydney snapped, snatching the small cocktail napkin from her hand and doing the best she could with it. "Oh, God-"

"I am SO sorry..."

Something about the way the girl said it, like her world was going to end right then and there, dissipated Sydney's anger a little, and she managed a weary sigh, along with a stiff smile. "It's allright... it's... It should come off."

"I'll totally pay for it," said the other one, bobbing her head. "Just... that's a nice shirt. I'm so sorry my friend is such a klutz."

Something about the girl's wide blue eyes, and horrified expression struck a twinge with Sydney, and for a moment, she forgot about the mess of her shirt, mind reeling back to a rather awkward second meeting with her cousin.

"Jenny?" she said finally, eyes widening, straightening up. "Right?"

Jenny looked startled, glancing up at her friend uncertainly before coming back to her. "Yes?"

"You probably don't remember me..." Sydney managed an embarrassed grin. "I'm- I'm a friend of Marina's? We met once, really briefly..."

When Jenny flinched, openly, nakedly, Sydney realized that it was completely the wrong thing to say. Immediately, her mouth clamped shut, her cheeks reddened, and her smile became wider, considerably more awkward.

"I- uh..."

"I'm Annette," said the other woman, holding out hands for a too-firm handshake. "I'm here with Jenny." She punctuated that statement with an arm around Jenny's shoulders.

"Sydney Bristow," Sydney said smoothly, releasing the handshake was quickly as she gave it. To be honest, Sydney wasn't really looking at Annette. Instead, her focus was on Jenny, as the girl's crystal stare seemed to take her in, drown in her. Her mouth was open, and suddenly it appeared her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Uh-oh.

"You're a friend of Marina's?" Jenny repeated.

She must have placed her now, Sydney could see just a glimmer of recognition before it faded to be replaced by something else, and whatever it was- Sydney just couldn't read.

It was disconcerting, for a spy.

"We- uh... yeah." Sydney answered, taking a moment to gauge her words, watch Jenny's reaction.

"Sydney!"

In the crowd, Marina couldn't have seen who Sydney had been talking to. Her cousin looked dazzling, with her black hair and leather pants, and smile so disarming even Sydney was infected by it, pulling away from the awkward moment to grin right back.

Marina managed to greet her with a hug, close and tight, a kiss on the cheek that was warm and affectionate.

"Hi!"

"Hey!" Sydney responded, squeezing her back tightly.

"It's so good to see you!" Marina exclaimed, cupping her face and jerking back. "What happened to you! You're all wet!"

"Umm..." Sydney motioned with her eyes, and Marina finally took the time to look at Sydney's conversation partners.

Her reaction was minute, yet so explicit. Her body froze underneath Sydney's touch, as her eyes locked with Jenny's, slid over to Annette. The smile tightened, and her voice became suddenly care-free, unfailingly polite, as she managed, "Hello."

A lone tear trickled down Jenny's face, but Marina didn't move.

Previously frozen in her awkwardness, Sydney finally felt her arms slip from Marina's waist, but Marina's hands held her firm, as if by holding tighter to Sydney she could somehow gain something - strength maybe?

Annette, with flashing eyes and a squared expression, was the one who broke the silence, stepping in front of the smaller girl, shoving her gently behind her.

"Do you even know what a hypocritical bitch you are?" she asked acidly. Sydney blinked, eyes jolted back to Marina, but her cousin gave no expression. "You are a user, and a poser, and it's pathetic." The words sank in, and Sydney, for the moment too stunned to do anything but listen, finally got her grip.

"Hey, now wait-"

"No." Marina's voice was low, firm. "Let them go."

"Annette, no." Jenny was softspoken, permanently husky in her tone. Her palm wrapped around her friend, but her eyes were only on Marina, as she struggled through her tears. "No, it's not worth this."

"Jenny," Marina began.

"How can you speak to me with your arms around her?" Jenny whispered, stepping back, nearly stumbling against a cobblestone.

Marina's arms loosened and she tried to step forward.

"Don’t," Jenny snapped. "Fuck you."

And they were gone - Jenny pulling Annette away, eyes shimmering in her righteous anger, long hair trailing in her wake.

It took a second to get her bearings back, assess the situation, her cousin still in her arms, staring in the direction that Jenny and Annette disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" Sydney snapped, glancing back and forth.

"That was Jenny," Marina answered softly, as if that explained everything. "Come on, Francesca's waiting." Just as quickly, she released her, taking her hand and leading her through the crowd, in the other direction.

The absurdity of this finally seemed to sink in.

"Wait- MARINA!' Digging in her heels, Sydney shook her head vividly. "What the hell is going on? Who the hell is Francesca?"

"I told you," Marina said impatiently. "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, you keep throwing that word around, but I’m just... I'm just trying to wrap - since when?"

Marina seemed quite in a hurry, and answered immediately. "Six years."

"Six years," Sydney repeated. "Six years?!"

"It's not so hard to believe."

"Is she invisible half the time?"

"Sydney, I don't have time for this," Marina said, eyes rolling up into her head. "She's waiting, and-"

"Let her wait! I just got some sort of cheap liquor spilled all over me, by YOUR jilted little school-girl-"

"Francesca knows-"

"She knows what?"

Marina took in a breath, and let it out. "She knows how things are."

Annoyance battled with genuine curiosity and Sydney forced her mouth shut, arms wrapped around her torso as she took a moment to gather herself before asking, "And how are they?"

Marina took in a breath, glanced around, and when she spoke, it was with a lowered, uncertain tone. "She knows about me."

Sydney blinked, licking her lips and coming forward. "Are you serious? Does she-"

"She does not know about you. I had to tell her... she thinks what everyone else thinks-"

"Forget about that," Sydney snapped. "Marina, she KNOWS? About Mom? And your Mom-"

"We've been together for six years... with Francesca it is... " Marina trailed off, shrugging once. "We should meet her."

It was impossible. Sydney had entered the Gay Twilight Zone, and although she had known her cousin only a few weeks, this was just... surreal.

There was no talking to Marina like this.

"Fine," she said, motioning with a regretful hand. "Let's go."

--

"Finally. For a while I thought I would have to send the food back to be reheated."

All it took was a glance for Sydney to immediately dislike Marina's choice of life partner.

Francesca had defined features – too striking to be conventionally pretty. But her hair, long and wavey, perfectly formed to fall around her shoulders, and her clothes, tight and expensive, and her confidence, the in-your-face kind, created an aura that Sydney could see mistaken for sexy.

"We ran into some old friends," Marina explained, offering a quick smile before she knelt down, scooting her way across the cushion, leading Sydney to follow.

Her girlfriend's eyes were on her, and a sudden chill creased over Sydney's spine, as if by her charm alone the woman could become a serpent.

"So you're the infamous Sydney," Francesca drawled, perfect smile forming across her lips, diction clear and strong. With her hand out, she gave Sydney a perfect hand shake, thumb trailing behind to tease the skin of her palm before releasing, allowing Sydney to sit. "Francesca Wolff."

"Sydney Bristow," Sydney responded, smile polite, and nothing else. "It's nice to meet you."

Marina gave her a small grin, and it was confusing, to see the way Marina slouched slightly, gravitated to Francesca's presence like a magnet.

This from a woman who only a few weeks ago had held a gun to Sark.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you!" Francesca responded, pearly whites flashing as she reached for her glass of wine, taking a dignified sip. "Marina has talked my ear off about you." She grinned, as if sharing a private joke. "I gotta say – based on the other of Marina's flings, I'm a little more impressed with you."

Sydney blinked. Was she supposed to find that funny? Casting an uncertain glance at Marina, she noticed her cousin unable to meet her gaze. She knew.

Sydney's smile was frozen. "Well, Marina and I decided we were much better off as friends."

"I admire the decision," Francesca said, laughing slightly. "Few women who've had Marina could say the same. Myself included."

Wow.

"Would you like some wine?" Marina asked, reaching forward to carefully take the bottle from the bucket.

"Please," Sydney said, slight steel in her tone. "So... Francesca – um... Marina hasn't exactly been detailed with umm... you. What do you do?"

"I'm a costume designer," Francesca responded easily, eyes moving from Marina's hands to Sydney's eyes. "Try the quesadilla, it's really quite good."

"I'm fine for now, thank you," Sydney answered. "So... a costume designer. That must mean you travel."

"Quite a bit," Francesca agreed. "Too much for Marina's liking. Though during my last little trip she really enjoyed herself here, all alone." That sunk in long enough for Marina to look embarrassed again, for Sydney to nearly flinch, before Francesca continued with a smile. "She tells me you travel as well."

"I work for the state," Sydney agreed. "Very boring work – but you get some nice frequent flyer miles and see some sights."

"Well, if we ever find ourselves in the same city, we should meet up," Francesca said warmly, hand leaning back to caress Marina's shoulders.

"Maybe we should order," Marina breathed.

"In a minute," Francesca replied. "The service doesn't take as long here as it does in The Planet, darling."

It was the way she said it. Her tone. Demeaning, treating Marina like a petulant child.

Sydney's stomach sunk further down, creating a deep chill.

"Well, you know," she said, taking a moment to gather herself. "If that ever happens, maybe we should bring Marina up as well. I'm sure she could use the vacation."

"Mmmm, I don't think so – Marina rather enjoys her hobbies here. Running my café into the ground, breaking up marriages – you know. Fun stuff."

Sydney could not smile. Not anymore. Her lips turned down, her eyes glittered slightly.

"Excuse me?"

"Did I offend you?" Francesca asked. "It's not as if it's not common knowledge. Marina was just so proud of herself, weren’t you, baby?"

Marina was visibly tense now, licking her lips before glancing back at Sydney. "Francesca," Marina said quickly. "You should not-"

"Come on, Marina! You were only too happy to tell me!" Francesca grinned. "You have to hear this story. There's this little writer who comes here from... Ohio, was it?" Sydney's palms slowly turned into fists. "It doesn't matter – some God-forsaken place. All this way, to marry her boyfriend. And she takes one look at Marina, and – what did she say-"

"Francesca-"

"No, this is good! I love this story!" Francesca leaned forward, animated. "Everytime I look at you, I feel so completely dismantled." She grinned. "Don't you love that?"

"Not really," Sydney said stiffly. "I find it rather trite."

Marina's eyes were on the table now.

"Well that makes two of us," Francesca answered. "But Marina found it quite charming. Broke up their little marriage. Really it's a very good story. Not as good as mine about the prima ballerina in Italy, but close."

Sydney sat in silence, lips pursed as she tried to handle the blood rushing to her head, her bleeding heart. "Just who do you think you are?" she asked finally. "Thinking you can treat people this way?"

Her low tone, even and icy, startled Fran slightly. It was enough to make her falter, before her haughty confidence took hold. She lost her smile.

"I treat people the way they want to be treated."

Sydney glanced at Marina, her downcast, stranger of a cousin, and then back to Francesca. "Then you should know better than to try to treat me the same."

"Forgive me," Francesca said. "I thought I was speaking to an equal."

"Not even close," Sydney bit back. "I'll be leaving now. The wine was wonderful." With that, she gathered her purse, pushing away from the low-level table. "Marina? Can I speak to you please?"

It was nearly a battle just to do that. She could see it in Marina's eyes, in Francesca's glittered glare.

There was something in her cousin she recognized, at least when Marina said "Sure" and slid out, glancing back at Francesca.

Sydney's glare was unfiltered, and Francesca glared right back, obviously not pleased with the turnout.

Ten feet away, Sydney began, her voice low, urgent. "Marina, I have been blown up, electrocuted, tortured by having my teeth pulled out one by one by very large forceps – never have I wanted to kill someone the way I wanted to kill that woman."

"You don't understand," Marina began. "It's... different-"

"That woman knows?!" Sydney hissed. "SHE KNOWS? And you let her? She is a VIPER, Marina!"

"Sydney," Marina began. "Stop. She is not always like this."

"You cannot defend her." Sydney hissed. "Marina, you're a fucking Derevko-"

Marina looked torn, conflicted. Arms crossed and eyes shifted, and she shuddered once. "She is all I have."

"Not anymore."

Their eyes locked, a slow burning plead.

Marina broke it, shaking her head and biting her lip, squeezing her fore-arm. "I'll call you."

Just like that, she left Sydney, and returned to Francesca.

--

It upset her more than she wanted to admit – this anomaly that was her cousin – the secrets that she had thought Marina so free from coming to put her in chains.

Was Sydney really so blinded by her cousin and their shared blood not to notice the amorality that had been so blatant in their first and second meetings? That spark she had recognized in her, subdued so easily by a poor woman's Derevko?

What the hell had happened to the Marina she thought she had known? Warm and loving and friendly – full of laughter and French curse words and polite charm?

Was that the Marina who broke up a marriage for a fling? Who submitted readily to a transparent blonde bitch?

Who the hell was Marina, really?

Never in her life had Sydney ached for her mother's vitality – her mother's pure dominance that radiated inside of her. She had seen it in Marina, had seen the way one glance from Irina, one glare or soft-spoken threat, could bring a man to his knees.

Marina must have known that. She must have lived that.

Never in her life would Sydney had imagined that a person who knew women who craved danger the way their mothers did would take refuge in becoming another's bitch.

Her phone rang, late at night, and she could not answer it.

In her car, staring over the hills, she glanced at the caller ID, threw it back in her purse.

Without a word, she started the ignition, cranked the stick shift, and pushed the accelerator.

She was off the Pacific Coast Highway and at the Planet in twenty minutes, found the door open, and Marina inside her office, waiting for her.

"Who the hell are you?" Sydney asked.

Marina stared passively, glancing at her from her journal, eyes a dark black.

"Someone who is desperate to be free," she finally answered.

"And this is free?" Sydney asked. "I checked her record, Marina. I ran The Planet – she put up the money, didn't she? She owns your house. She owns your life."

Marina glanced at her desk, fingers tapping against the wood.

"You've traded international terrorism for a guilded cage."

At that, she glanced up, eyes sparking in that minute gesture that had reminded Sydney so much of her mother. "Do you consider yourself freer than I am? With your CIA? Your task assignments- your prophecies?"

"No," she answered roughly. "But I never kidded myself."

The door slammed out in the café, disrupting the moment, forcing both women to look behind them as a man hollered hoarsely for Marina.

"Who the hell is that?" Sydney asked, following after Marina as her cousin brushed past her, into the café.

She found a young man, disheveled and stinking of alcohol, tossing over tables and staring at Marina with glistening eyes agitated with feeling.

"You bitch," he whispered. "You think you can do this? We were happy. We WERE HAPPY – and you came with your pussy and your words and you just fucked her. You turned her into this THING – I can't even look at her."

"Tim, you are drunk," Marina said, coming forward. "You need to go home. I will call you a cab."

"Don't you fucking touch me," he growled, pushing her back so hard she nearly toppled back.

Sydney took a step forward, steadying her cousin and pushing her behind her. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

Tim registered her, blinking as he glanced at her, up and down before he sneered at Marina, "Who is this? The latest conquest? Do you have a boyfriend too? Does she lick you up and down real good?"

"Fuck you, Tim," Marina answered, arms crossed, irate into passive anger.

"No, FUCK YOU," he shouted. "FUCK YOU."

He was strong, but Sydney had run out of patience. In two seconds she had him pinned, arms locked behind him, knees slamming against the tile of the Planet floor, holding his body against her. "Listen to me," she whispered. "You touch Marina again, I will not be as gentle. Get out, and walk this off."

He struggled, but as soon as she let him get on his feet, she had him propelling to the door, sending him sprawling outside.

Her hand was on the lock, slipping it shut.

With a trembling breath inward, she said in the silence that followed, "LOCK YOUR DOOR."

Marina stalked toward the bar, reaching behind it to pull out a bottle. "Do you want one?"

Sydney ignored the bottle, instead casting intense eyes on her cousin. "Was that the guy who gave you the bruises?"

Marina took a minute before answer, tone suddenly matter-of-fact. "That was Tim. Jenny's fiancé."

"Fiancé," Sydney repeated, looking away in a helpless growl of anger.

"Yes," Marina responded. "They were getting married."

"So she was right. You broke them up."

The bottle slammed against the bar, creating a dull thud. "I did not force Jenny to do anything she did not want to do."

Sydney grinned, a tired, angry grimace that seemed a pale comparison to the full brilliance of her true smile. "I don't know how I could have forgotten what a Derevko really was. You with your amoral guidelines. Thinking anything is okay."

Marina's eyes flickered, gaze hardening into steel. "I see. And you, you are so much better? What, you love a man who is married to another – who you are sure belongs to you?"

"Don't bring Vaughn-"

"Yet you do nothing because of your morals, your compromises. Does it make you any happier, Sydney?"

It wounded her, sliced her deep in her heart so that she bled inside, an open wound that had somehow began to fester into physical pain.

"Fuck you," she whispered. "I don't know who you are. I don't want to know who you are."

Marina's gaze was cold, passive. "No one is forcing you to be here."

It was her dismissal, and Sydney didn't realize she was crying until the tears stained her cheek, hitting cold air and chilling her skin. Without a word she turned, moved toward the door.

When her hand was on the doorknob, she paused. "I saw something good," she whispered into the darkness. "I saw something that I wanted. I thought I had found something – but all it hid was a stranger."

She twisted, and walked out of the café, away from the Planet.

--

Mom.

I don't know if you received my first latter. I don't anything anymore..

Her writing was scratchy, nearly illegible.

Dried tears stained her cheeks, and she wiped at them hurriedly, felt their sticky saltiness on her palm.

She was writing a letter to a ghost.

Not even her father knew where her mother had gone, and her 'gift' had seared her, as if from wherever she was, her mother twisted the knife that much more.

"Sydney."

Glancing up, she discovered Weiss, staring down at her.

"Hey," she said, swallowing hard. "What's up?"

"Dixon called a meeting. Something about a plane..." Weiss trailed off, staring harder at her. "Are you okay?"

She smiled once. "I'll be okay. It's just... personal."

"Right." He managed a tight smile. "Okay."

"I'll be right there."

He was uncertain in his steps, and she took only a moment to breathe in, hard, before she pushed off the desk.

Only to discover her mother's letter, wrinkled in her palm.

She stared at it, unfolding it carefully.

With a heave of her heart, she fisted it into her palm, and let it fall in the trashcan, following Weiss to the briefing.

FIN