Teaser: Marina gets a taste of home, and Lauren finds her own control slowly slipping from her fingers when the past suddenly reasserts itself in a way neither would have imagined.
Series: Nothing to Write Home About, Story XXII
Crossover: Alias/The L Word
Characters: Marina, Sark, Lauren, etc.

--

I love the way you look at me

I feel the pain you place inside

You lock me up inside your dirty cage

Well, I'm alone inside my mind

The woman was an enigma.

Lauren Reed was fascinated.

They had been instructed to wait, and with little else to do, she waited and watched the woman Sark had taken, the woman whose life she had breathed through the lips of the woman she fucked. She had become nothing short of a legend to her, to come face to face with the wild and wanton Marina Ferrer. Francesca's stories had revealed a woman short on discipline, and perhaps that was the reason Lauren found herself surprised at Marina's behavior.

There was no wild rage, no pulling at bars or crying in the quiet of her dark room.

Marina Ferrer had not said a word since she had been awoken, strapped to a bed and trapped in a gilded cage, bars affording no privacy. Sydney Bristow would have been sobbing, talked her ear off by now, but Marina had kept her poise, treating the cuffs as minor inconveniences, tugging at them simply to test their weight, before she sat up.

Lauren loved to watch, to see the Derevko sit in her cage, resting on the floor, dark eyes blank, staring straight ahead, focused on something that Lauren couldn't see.

"One would think you were getting attached."

Julian Sark, voice smooth as honey, pushed off from the doorway, a grimace at the dusty décor crossing over his face before he slid into the chair beside her, tapping at their monitor, eyes narrowing at her.

"Did you know her?" Lauren asked, biting her bottom lip, taking in the side of the woman.

"Not like this," Sark said, shaking his head slowly. "It surprised me, really, not remembering her until now - but I can remember flashes... at that age so many faces ran together." He studied her, the way her eyes flashed at the sight of the woman as she moved, like watching a tiger in its cage. "You're attracted to her."

Lauren chuckled slightly, a low, rumbling tone that almost mocked him. "That's one way of putting it, yes."

"You want to fuck her."

She smiled now. "The thought had crossed my mind."

Julian Sark had never taken offense to her attraction to women, never questioned his own inadequacies, as she was sure Michael Vaughn would have done. He never seemed threatened. Secure enough in their twisted affair, and his own ambiguous sexuality, he enjoyed it.

A deep suspicion festered in Lauren's heart, that Julian Sark's weakness was falling in love, and at the moment, that devotion was focused on her. Despite his own callous capacity for cruelty, Julian Sark was surprisingly loyal to the women he fucked. It made her wonder what would happen should Sydney ever decide to take Julian to bed.

For the moment, however, that control was hers, and turned on, she turned to him, pushing out of her chair to stretch a leg over his own, settling into his lap, smile nearly wicked.

"Would you like to know what I would do her?" she whispered, inches from his perfect lips.

His eyes were dark as granite, hands warm and heavy as they settled possessively on her ribs, lazy as he allowed her to grind her hips into his pelvis, stirring his erection to life.

"I'm sure you'd tell me whether I wanted to or not," he whispered.

Her smile was a cat's, as she kissed him, dipping her tongue into his mouth, moaning slightly when she felt him hard now, making her ache.

"I wouldn't take her," she decided, when she broke the kiss, watching with half-lidded eyes as Julian removed her blouse, sliding up with his surprisingly smooth hands, until it was over her head, hands burying into her blonde mane, breaking off her clip, letting it pile around her shoulders.

"Oh, you wouldn't," he murmured.

"No," she whispered. "I'll let her believe she was in control. She'd be starved for it, and I know she would know exactly what to do... where to touch me."

"Would she go down on you?" he asked, pulling at the cup of her bra, freeing her left breast. Her breathing was ragged, as he paused, taking a moment to suck lightly at her nipple, massaging at the other one. Never looking up, he merely let her fall back, holding her form in his lap as he continued his journey, burying lips into her belly. "Would she get you as wet as you are now?"

"Wetter," she challenged, a husky threat that had him quirking his lips, letting her fall to the floor with a thud. He glared down at her, working quickly at his belt, and she waited, elbows on the floor, eyes flashing in anticipation.

Without a word, he let his pants fall, pushed down at his boxers, and knelt, roughly grabbing ahold of her own buckle, and working quickly.

One shift, hands cupping her butt, and she moaned when he thrust into her.

He was rough, just like she wanted him to be, and she didn't stop her fingers from clawing into his back, didn't stop when he nearly drew blood from her skin at her neck. He fucked her, and in the midst of it, she looked up at the monitor, and spotted Marina Ferrer, sitting on her floor, looking directly into the camera.

Fuck.

She came, hard and fast, and he followed suit, collapsing into her arms. For once, she let him stay, curling fingers into his softy silky blonde hair, a mockery of a tender moment.

She felt generous. For some reason, she had never been so bloody happy in her life.

--

I'd like to teach you all the rules

I'd get to see them set in stone

I like it when you chain me to the bed

But then your secrets never shone

Something was wrong.

Marina did not think in terms of time. Such a thing could drive a person crazy. She did not ask herself how long she had been here, in a small room where nothing but a camera watched her, and a killer who had been a child she had once taken care of brought her food, and conversation.

But she knew, she had been here too long without something happening.

These people were patient people, but she knew about the escalation of time. She had been taken for the same reason she had been taken before: her dear friend Rambaldi. She would have expected torture, by now, or deliverance to Mr. Lee, who would probe her and hurt her until she broke.

They were simply treading water, here, and Marina was smart enough to know how that was not a good thing.

It would have been easier, to keep her temperament, keep her continued silence, had she not had anything but her memories to remind her of what had transpired. Ruthless people lived in this world, and she was almost certain now, that Jenny Schecter was dead.

The thought itself created a dangerous numbness in her, moisture in her eyes, because she knew people like Julian Sark, and there was no reason to believe he had afforded her little lover any mercy.

There was a propensity to hate, deep within her, and yet Marina understand why she had sated her control, kept her composure. She may have hated those who had taken her, but the truth was, she did not know them. She knew herself.

She should have known she would have destroyed, then taken Jenny's life. She should have known from her own experience. Derevko's were amoral European bitches. They were incapable of love.

Her bars shook now, metallic clanks that didn't really incline her to move, just shift her head to watch Julian Sark as he entered, placing down a platter of food that was certainly not gourmet, but surprisingly palatable, considering the situation.

"Chinese," he said, and left it on her bed, two feet in front of her. By experience now, she knew he knew, she would not touch it until he left. Because Julian always stayed. "We ordered in."

Sark liked to talk, and she let him, but said nothing in return. He offered no questions, merely sat down, watching her with gilded amusement.

"I remember you now," he said methodically. "They kept you away from me. They didn't let me get attached. Why is that, do you think?"

Marina understood the reason, but she did not enlighten him with the answer - not when she was sure he already knew it.

"You changed my diaper," he continued, lost in his memory. "I remember thinking you were quite beautiful. Then a figment of my own imagination. You dropped off the face of the planet, didn't you?" He smiled lightly, before he took in her rattled glare, and sobered slightly. "I didn't kill your friend, if that's what you're so angry about. When I left her, she was very much alive." Marina knew better than to believe him, but she couldn't fault him his intelligence. Her lips quirked once, and his smile grew at the reaction. "They'll be coming for you in a few hours. I'm afraid that what you'll endure will not be pleasant. Consider our time here a reprieve."

She wasn't as wild as she used to be, but her years in West Hollywood had weakened her exterior, and she couldn't help her narrowed glare, "Why are you telling me this?"

He paused, almost surprised she had spoken, before he shrugged, non-committal, and rose to his feet.

"I'm very much aware of the fact that you could have killed me when you had the chance during our first reunion, and didn't. I also believe it was possibly your doing that I woke in a gay bar and not in US Custody," he said. "And while I consider that stupid on your part, and Sydney's, for allowing me to escape, a small bit of sentimentality exists." He nodded shortly. "I just wanted you to be aware that this is nothing personal. We were children once, and we grew up in the same world. You understand it as well as I do."

She regarded him, this killer with his boyish good lucks, and English charm, Derevko patience woven into him that must have been a touch from Irina.

Women, then, were his weakness.

Interesting.

She found herself smiling, a small moment of understanding as he nodded back.

"Absurdly sentimental," they both heard, a voice cloaked in the darkness just beyond her cell. Julian Sark whirled, and Marina stayed put, as a figure emerged from the shadows, arms crossed, regarding the scene. "You were never taught to be this soft, Julian."

More alarmed than scared, Julian straightened, curious as he squinted. "And who are you?"

Marina waited, watching as the lithe figured pulled at the mask covering her face, to reveal a stunning brunette, flawless feature, familiar amused smirk caressing the stranger's expression.

"I'm who you've been waiting for," she said frankly. She spoke in English, European accent tinging her words, and once again, a rush of familiarity rushed over Marina, that had her narrowing her gaze, palming her hands into fists.

"I don't believe you are," Julian said lightly, stepping out of the cage now, shutting it firmly behind him. "We were expecting a man, and that is something you are, rather fortunately, not."

Marina watched, as the blonde she had been introduced to as Vaughn's wife, burst into the room, a pistol in her hand, aimed directly at the back of the brunette's head. "You have exactly a minute to tell us who you are before I pull the trigger and blast your brains out of your pretty head."

"Tempting," the woman answered dryly, but she kept her gaze on Sark. "Surely you'd remember me, Julian? I understand it's been a few years, but I haven't aged that much, have I?"

He did look confused, as if trying to place her, and Marina watched now, the manners, the face - the nose, and the mouth.

In a second, she understood, and she should have been relieved now. She wasn't. Her eyes shut tight, and her head fell against the wall.

"Your contact is dead," the woman said crisply. "I've come here to intercept your guest."

"Oh, have you?" Lauren sniffed, chuckle rising out of her.

"Yes," she replied easily. "You have a new employer, and she would appreciate not being held at gunpoint."

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Lauren whispered, and Marina opened her eyes to find Sark still staring, Lauren jumpy enough to press the trigger. "How did you get in?"

"Elena," he said suddenly, and the woman turned her attention back to him, smiling widening.

"Glad you remember me," she said frankly.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered.

"It seemed prudent to facilitate that belief at the time." She turned, eyes narrowing at Lauren. "Please put that down."

"Put it down," Sark repeated crisply.

Lauren's look at that almost amused Marina, as she found herself fighting a smirk at the unabashed bewildered expression that creased over the blonde's face. "Are you mad?!"

"Put it down," he repeated, sharper now.

"The Covenant will not stand-"

"The Covenant does not matter now," Elena said, looking mildly bored. "They have nothing at this moment that is worth anything. We do."

"We?"

"I dropped their communications - they have no idea where you are, that knowledge died with your contact."

Julian Sark came forward, eyes narrowed in something close to hope. "Is she with you?"

Elena regarded him. "She'll be joining us shortly."

No one paid attention to Lauren now, but Marina, who found herself fascinated as the Blonde's hands nearly shook, trying to take part in a scene where she obviously had no importance.

But even she was forced to turn her attention to Elena, who now came forward, met her eyes from just outside the bars.

"Allo, Marina," she said softly. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Elena Derevko." Marina didn't move. "I'm your aunt."

--

I need to feel you

You need to feel me

I can't control you

You're not the one for me, no

I can't control you

You can't control me

I need to feel you

So why's there even you and me

She could have been thirty. She could have been forty-five.

Elena Derevko wore a face that was timeless, and Lauren Reed hated her for it. She decided she hated her the moment she walked into their operation, the moment Sark's eyes lit up, the moment she was suddenly removed from the bloody operation that was her idea to begin with.

"What are you doing?"

Lauren's eyes fluttered closed, a desperate breath of frustration sliding through her body as she turned, eyed her partner with something close to contempt.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, fitting the wig over her head, eyeing the reddish color with some distaste. For some reason, she was absurdly proud of her blonde mane today. It seemed demeaning to cover it with this. "I'm going to see the Covenant."

"You'll do no such thing." His voice was crisp, no room for argument, and a shudder of anger inside her rose, like bile in her throat.

The order had been given mere seconds after Elena Derevko had introduced herself to Marina Derevko, in that coup that had been staged with such easy finesse, Lauren was still reeling, pistol arm dropping to her side.

Julian ignored her, eyes only on their new guest, who in turn, only had eyes for their prisoner - their fucking prisoner that was only there because of her.

Marina Ferrer didn't move. She merely stared at her aunt, before a small, bitter smile slid over her features and she said in an accent that mimicked her aunt's completely, "I suppose it would be premature to rejoice for freedom?"

"Just a bit," Elena agreed. "I suppose you thought I had died as well?"

"Not exactly," Marina replied. "I simply never cared enough to ask."

Sucking in her breath, Lauren stepped forward, somehow still uncertain, walking a careful half circle around the two women.

"Yes. I was always some sort of afterthought - I learned quite well to use it to my advantage."

"Good for you."

"Not exactly great for you," Elena said, before she rose off her haunches and turned to face Sark. Her Sark, who stared at the woman with bloody stars in his eyes. "We're moving things up. Do you have the serum?"

"Yes," he said immediately, and Lauren's eyes widened as he cheerfully volunteered, "We still have two canisters."

"Wait," Lauren snapped, shaking her head. "That's all we have. There are tests to be done - we must determine if she does indeed have it inside her. Our orders-"

"Your orders have changed," Elena said, in a tone so fierce, so angry, that Lauren found her words drying out, dying in her throat, suddenly dry by the glare, the attention of the older woman. "Do you have a problem with that?"

She hated her. Standing in a room where even Marina fucking Ferrer seemed to pity her, Lauren Reed's fingered itched on her gun, overwhelmed with the suddenly urge to raise her arm and open fire, riddle the women with bullets, watch her royal blood seep on the floor.

But Sark stood behind her, and in his eyes was that amoral coldness she had always admired, because she knew he had proved his loyalty to her.

Now, she was not sure.

She said nothing, until Elena smiled, nodded, and turned on her heel, heading for the open door. "Your impatience will get you killed," she whispered. Elena Derevko froze, turning back to shoot her such a withering glare, her heart fluttered in her chest.

"I have spent forty years hiding in my sister's shadow, to achieve this moment" she whispered, breathless and angry. "Do not question my patience."

Lauren was a pawn, but she did her job well. She understood her loyalties, and she had been a participant in her husband's torture and her father's murder in an effort to appease those she worked for.

She did not change her affiliation at the drop of a hat, not for a person who frightened her, a woman she barely knew.

A woman who not had not only taken her prisoner, her success, but her lover.

"Why?" she nearly spit, turning, knowing the answer and yet somehow needing to hear it from him. "I knew you were frustrated, Julian, but I never took you for a lackey."

He regarded her, with his stone cold eyes that sparked at her only in extreme emotion. "I'm no lackey," he replied easily. "That is why I am doing this."

Was he really so blind?

"You're the Derevko lapdog," she snarled. "One comes calling and you come panting, humping her leg like a domestic beast."

It was meant to anger him, and perhaps it did, but Julian's mouth only pulled upwards slightly, a small smirk, as he came forward, a deliberate step-by-step. "Are you content, Lauren, with being what you are?"

"I'm content with being alive," she said simply. "I'm content with following orders and doing what I can to maintain any freedom I have."

"I see." He seemed disappointed, rapidly losing interest, and it frightened Lauren, the dull look in his eyes, as if he no longer cared. "I myself have higher aspirations."

It wasn't working. Her desperation was getting the better of her, and with her heart in her throat, she wondered how on earth she had been so happy just a day ago, when she had Sark in the palm of her hand, and Marina in her cell.

She swallowed hard, face softening now, coming forward to gently lay fingers on his face, a small, warm smile on her face. "Darling," she whispered. "Don't you see? You can't trust her. She's trying to tear us apart. You don't know this woman. You don't know who she works for." He merely stared at her, and Lauren felt her heart tremor, as she pressed a kiss to his lips, smoothed her fingers over his cheeks, "Let me call them," she whispered. "We can be what we were, we can be together, and the Covenant will reward us for giving them Marina..."

His fingers were tight on her wrists, jerking them from his face, keeping her from touching him.

"I did not choose the Covenant," he said simply. "They took my money and forced my labor. They will betray me, just as you did, and have done, and will do, over and over again, Lauren. I am a man of few scruples, and I trust no one." He smiled. "The Derevkos have been long aware of this. They have instilled such values inside of me." She swallowed hard, as Sark suddenly kissed her, hard and angry. When he released her, he said, "There has been only one woman in this world I have truly trusted, Lauren. One who I have truly loved. It isn't you." She swallowed, devastated, as he grinned, nodding slightly. "Contact the covenant, and I will let them kill you. Give them your loyalty, and we can continue as we were."

He left her there, alone, knowing full well Lauren would stay where she was.

She hated him for knowing her so well, when she didn't know him at all.

--

I love the way you rake my skin

I feel the hate you place inside

I need to get your voice out of my head

'Cause I'm that guy you'll never find

He found her in the monitor room, staring down into the image of her niece, finger on her chin, dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves.

"Does she fascinate you?" he asked, almost reverent as he moved directly beside her, eyeing the monitor.

Elena Derevko grinned slightly, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "There have been few of us who had managed to escape from this legacy, who have even wanted to. It is living proof that here she is, sucked back into a game that I don't think she even remembers how to play."

"Does it say much," he asked, taking a moment to think, "to do this to your own niece?"

She considered that, before she said simply, "It didn't stop you from torturing your own father, having him killed, did it?"

Now it was his turn to smile sheepishly, turning away from the beautiful face.

"Will your girlfriend be a problem?" she asked, taking advantage of the silence.

"Not if you don't trust her." He shrugged. "Lauren is very good at what she does, but she takes entirely too much pleasure in it. She's impulsive, doubtful, and prone to irrational behavior."

"Emotion can either be a value or a weakness," Elena said, musing slightly. "One can be ruled by their emotion, but it makes them unpredictable."

"Or entirely predictable," he said simply. "The serum is ready."

Elena considered that, before she checked her watch, noted the position of the hands, and said, "We have time, yet." He could not stop staring, and she noticed, smile brightening on her face as she regarded him, dark brown eyes boring into his own. "What you're attracted to is simply an Oedipal complex," she said gently. "Do not mistake your infatuation with me for loyalty. I do not trust you, yet."

"No one in their right mind would," he said breezily. "I don't even trust myself."

Her gaze drifted to his lips, and he smiled, careful now, almost gentle, as he pressed a kiss to her own.

She stood, silent, deadly, eyes boring into his own until she leaned forward, opening her mouth over his. The kiss was sweet, almost gentle, and he grinned into it, tainting it's chasteness with his tongue, pushing against hers, drawing out a low moan as he propelled her forward, hard against the wall.

She lost her breath briefly, and he gave her no time to recover, hungrily covering her mouth in a lustful kiss, hooking one hand underneath her leg, pulling it up to wrap around his waist. He thrust now, straining against his jeans, when she broke the kiss and moaned, sucking on his earlobe greedily.

"You're the Derevko lapdog. One comes calling and you come panting, humping her leg like a domestic beast.

He growled against the words, slithered in his mind, punishing Lauren for her judgment by devouring Elena Derevko in another kiss, rough and greedy and tenderly passionate.

When he pushed nearly tore at her blouse to get at her breasts, she did not stop him, and he was drunk on the taste of Elena Derevko.

Blind to anything else.

--

I think you know all of the rules

There's no expressions on your face

I hope that some day you will let me go

Release me from my dirty cage

When Lauren finally came to her, Marina wasn't surprised.

"Your boyfriend?" she asked, watching as Lauren shut the bars behind her, eyes black with anger.

"Fucking your aunt," she answered crisply, almost a sneer.

Of course. Marina grinned, palming her hand over her nape as she glanced up at the forsaken lover. "Sex with a Derevko is like a proverbial giant chocolate muffin," she said frankly. "Absolutely irresistible, but ultimately, never a good idea."

"So I've been told," Lauren said stiffly, settling on the bed across from her, holding up a key. "Give me your wrists."

Marina quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed, watching in amused bewilderment as Lauren snapped open the cuffs.

"He must have really pissed you off," she commented.

"It's not about him," Lauren whispered. "It's about me. I won't have anyone thinking they can control me."

Marina considered that. Lauren was impulsive and foolish, but she was underrated. It would be Sark and Elena's undoing. A desperate woman was capable of so much.

In fact... it was almost useful. Lauren had set herself up for a trap. Should she let Marina escape with the others fully aware it had been what she had intended, they would kill her. Unless Lauren had a different agenda.

If, however, it appeared that Lauren was merely foolish, and jealous, had come in for a quick fuck and nothing else, then it would be a different story.

Lauren was not stupid, not foolish, and certainly not willing to die. Not for this.

Marina found herself smiling, a mimic of Lauren's own.

"You fucked Francesca, didn't you?" she said finally, rubbing the circulation back into her wrists

Lauren settled more comfortably on the cot, shrugging carefully out of her jacket, leaving a pleasing black tanktop and a nice view of ample breasts. "She was quite good."

"She drugs you with sex," Marina agreed.

"Funny, she seemed to say the same about you," Lauren said, palm now on Marina's knee, gentle as she smoothed her hand intimately over her thigh.

"And you're here to find out, is that it?" Marina asked, playing along, watching as Lauren's smile tilted into a sultry grin.

"Being a prisoner should have its perks," she whispered, eyeing her underneath long lashes. "After all, you're in for a nice long day of torture. You should have something to take your mind off of it."

"Are you asking or telling?"

Lauren spread her legs, coming forward to settle herself between them, until she was staring into Marina's eyes, lips inches from her own.

"I'll find you again," she whispered, low and softly, brushes of breath that only Marina could hear. "I'll find you and finish whatever we start, remember that."

Marina tilted her head up, met her kiss head on, mouth moving hungrily against Lauren's, hands wrapping around her waist, bringing Lauren down hard, until she was off balance, flat against her.

She indulged herself, following Lauren into a hot embrace, no stranger to frantic, determined fucks.

She was tempted to finish this now, as Lauren's fingers tugged at the waistband of her pants, desperate to reach her clit, but the show had gone on long enough.

"Give Francesca my love," she snapped, before her palm razored at the base of Lauren's neck, hard, effective.

The woman slumped to the floor, falling off the bed.

Quickly, Marina moved, stepping over the spy and heading for the door, pushing open the bars and frantically searching for a decent exit.

She made a right, into a dark corridor, fast now, arms pumping, mind whirling with phantom bullets ready to penetrate into her spine.

It was colder now, chillier in this maze of rooms, and she took that for a sign, a good one, that she was close to escaping now, to finding freedom in whatever city they had dragged her to.

She was running, so fast, so tuned into what was behind her, she didn't see what was in front of her until she turned a corner and nearly tripped over the figure.

Strong arms reached out, caught her, steadied her as Marina stumbled, keeping her from falling, hurting herself.

Clasping instinctively to the arms that held her, Marina sucked in a ragged breath, until she managed to look into the face of the person who had caught her.

"Tia?"

Irina Derevko managed a smile, hold gentle on her niece. "Mi vida."

Suddenly a fist connected to her temple, and the world exploded in pain, then went mercifully black.

--

need to feel you

You need to feel me

I can't control you

You're not the one for me, no

I can't control you

You can't control me

I need to feel you

So why's there even you and me

She woke up on the floor of the cell, a bruise forming on her neck and two figures glaring down at her.

"You foolish cunt," whispered one, reeling back to bury her booted foot into her stomach, causing a burst of pain that forced Lauren to cry out, curl into a fetal position.

She expected this. She had acted alone and would be lucky to get out of it alive. Perhaps she was counting on too much then, to believe Sark would save her from certain death.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Your jealousy will get you killed," whispered the Derevko, staring down at her.

Lauren grimaced up at her, almost grinning. "Your lust allowed this. It damned you, as much as it damned me."

Julian Sark was passive, staring at them both, before he only shook his head, moved out of the cell, loading his pistol. "You can't blame the woman for wanting to fuck a Derevko," he said mildly. "Though it puts her stupidity on a new level. I'll find her. She can't have gone far."

She felt a small jolt of relief flood through her. Foolish Sark did not let her down.

Elena stared back at him, perhaps too well-fucked to be truly barbaric. "Get up," she said. "Help him."

Lauren tried her best to hide her smile. She could leave with her life, find the covenant, bring them back and ruin Elena Derevko and Julian Sark.

Better to think her foolish than too smart.

She staggered to her feet, ignoring the jolt of pain in her ribs as she took the gun Elena handed out.

"Lets go, idiot," Sark said briskly, already walking toward the exit. Lauren was prepared to follow, when suddenly he froze, expression unreadable, when a woman emerged, dragging a body with her.

Elena herself broke into a smile of relief, one that quickly died when she saw the face of one murderous Irina Derevko.

Lauren swallowed hard now, heart beating horribly against her chest when Irina Derevko dropped the unconscious form of Marina Ferrer against the cell. "Lose something?" she said acidly.

Fuck.

Just as quickly, Lauren's control slipped from her again, as Julian Sark embraced the only woman he had ever loved, as tenderly as she had ever seen.

She was the last in the cage, and she glanced at the bars fearfully.

She had no control. No loyalties. No power, here.

She was truly trapped.

FIN

Lyrics by Puddle of Mudd