Nothing to Write Home About: Bad Habit

Every moment was a moment
Every day was a day
Every second was a second
And I've lost myself again
- Tegan and Sara, Superstar

When the door creaked open, bringing with it light, Anna Espinosa lifted her weary head up and found Sydney Bristow closing it behind her, a pair of kitchen shears in her palm.

Anna had to give Sydney credit - despite what she knew about the messy little patriot, for one heart stopping second, she had actually believed that Sydney would use them in a less than dignified manner.

But true to form, her little stone-faced Sydney only knelt down, and clipped the plastic between her legs. Anna's legs spasmed from the sudden release, and Sydney stopped the action with a jerk, ignoring Anna's cry of pain as the nerves came to life, spreading uncomfortable tingles throughout her body.

Cool eyes regarded Anna, as Sydney stood, moved around her.

"You're going to get that baby," Sydney ordered. Biting her lip to keep from grunting as Sydney's scissors managed to dig the plastic ties further into her skin, Anna didn't answer. Not right away. "Marina will go with you. She'll explain the plan along the way."

Marina. Anna suddenly grinned, feeling her arms swing free. Rubbing her fingers gingerly about her wrist, Anna considered that.

"Marina," she said, sounding out the word, tasting it against her lips. "Shame on you, Sydney," she said softly, "For not introducing us before this."

Her skin was broken, congealed drops of blood appearing like tiny ringlets around her wrists. Anna closed her palm over it, taking it one hand at a time.

"I admit," she continued, "I've heard about her, but I never once thought she would live up to the hype. My regards to your gene pool."

Her dark eyes lifted to take in Sydney's reaction, and found the woman's cousin with a tight expression, a forced chuckle coming from her lips.

"Something funny?" Anna asked.

"I just don't remember you swinging that way, Anna," Sydney said simply, sharply.

Anna considered that, before she shrugged noncommittally and responded tartly, "I could say the same about you."

Sydney literally blanched, and Anna couldn’t help her wider grin. "You know, Sydney. If things do work out with Marina. If we do form a loving partnership - you and I? We would be cousins!"

"SHUT UP," Sydney snapped, and Anna laughed, switching hands now, wrapping fingers around her wounds tightly. "What makes you think Marina would have any interest in you?"

"Oh, Sydney! Are you saying I’m not good enough for her? Do I not have your blessing?"

Sydney's movements were jerky now, and Anna knew she was tempting fate, to keep digging into the woman when she was still holding the sharp shears and wearing as murderous a look on her face that Anna had seen.

And still... it was just too much fun to really pass up.

"We seem to share the same interests. Your cousin doesn't have your squeaky clean reputation, Sydney. I'll play her games if she plays mine."

That did it. In another second Anna's hair was pulled sharply into Sydney's fists, and Sydney's face was only inches from her own, the painful point of the shears carefully close to Anna's throat.

"Don't think for a second I trust you," she whispered vehemently. "You don't show up with that baby, if anything happens to my cousin, I swear to GOD I'll finish what I started in here."

When the door opened, that was how Marina found them, and Anna suppressed the grin when Sydney only tossed her cousin a glare, letting her go, and shoving past her cousin.

She said nothing as Marina came forward, tilting up her chin, inspected the red droplets underneath, gathering them on her fingertips.

"Is I just me or is Sydney a little on edge?" Anna said wryly, her native Spanish easier on her tongue.

Marina's dark eyes shifted to hers and Anna once again welcomed the desire that flushed through her. She hadn't felt it in a while. Nowadays she would kill anything just to feel.

Marina's hand dropped, the Derevko woman stepping back. "Let's go."

Bianca understood what it was like to live in a nightmare and drown in it, wonder when exactly she would ever wake up, and doubt that it was even possible.

She had no physical scars, no wounds broken on her skin - Bianca was whole, with exception to her heart.

The sadness had given way to a curious numbness, as she sat at her desk, listened intently to Lena, as her former lover outlined 'the plan'.

It sounded like something out of a spy novel.

She only nodded, tapping fingernails on her desk, and glanced up with a dark gaze. "And where is that woman now?"

"Anna?" Lena asked. The slender Polish spy rested her hip against the large wooden desk, running fingers through her bangs, setting them behind her ear. "She has left with Marina. They will meet you with your baby."

Bianca let that sink in, until the meaning behind the words caught up to her and she sat up, heart stuttering erratically. "Marina?" she breathed. "Anna went alone with Marina?"

Lena hesitated, nodded. "Bianca-"

"Do you remember what that woman did?" Bianca breathed. "This is my BABY, LENA!"

"Marina has proven to be the only one who can handle the woman, Bianca," Lena tried.

"But do you trust her?" Bianca breathed. "Do you TRUST her?"

Lena understood what she was asking. Miranda's beautiful face was like a mirage, and the vision tempted Bianca with hope, hope that she would never give up on, COULD never give up on.

Now, she was on the verge of freedom, and found herself sinking faster into the stench of the situation.

"Bianca," Lena said finally, pushing up on the desk. "You once had the same suspicions about me. I destroyed your trust in ways Marina never has-"

"Marina was the reason I'm losing Maggie," Bianca said tersely, and immediately regretted the sentence, because she knew what was coming, eyes closed against the truth.

"Marina is the reason we were able to find your daughter as quickly as we did." Lena said, and Bianca's eyes opened when she felt the faintest of touches, seconds before Lena pulled away, pushing off the desk and taking a step back. "Do not trust Marina if you cannot," Lena continued, voice huskier, drier. "But do trust me."

Bianca's heart constricted, and she fought for her emotion, uncomfortable itchiness in her throat creating a lump of pain that she found nearly impossible to swallow around. "I trust you implicitly," she admitted. "But you're not nearly as capable of what Marina is."

She glanced up to discover Lena wearing a surprising unreadable expression, body frozen.

"Then you never really knew me," Lena said, so sadly that Bianca's heart nearly broke for what had to be at least the tenth time that day.

It was difficult, so difficult, to deal with this in the face of everything else.

"Tell me again what I have to do," she said softly, focusing instead on what she had to do, what she intended on doing, to get her daughter back.

"I know it is a lot, Bianca."

"I can do it," she said immediately, dismissing the task. She studied the task, and felt her insecurity surface in Goosebumps, an erratic beating of her heart. "Will you be coming with me?"

Lena shook her head, shoulders shaking in a bitter laugh. "I'm a marked woman at Cambias, Bianca. The minute I turn up, security will take me with a vengeance." Bianca glanced down at her desk. "Sydney will be with you. You will not be alone."

She considered the wording, and a small, bitter smile floated on her face at the thought.

She remembered Maggie's face at discovering her once again in Lena's arms, the way Maggie had once again run out on her.

For once, Bianca didn't blame her.

Who in their right mind would willing pick this? Pick HER, with all this baggage.

She glanced down at the instructions, ignoring Lena's sad smile, pushing aside her own breaking heart.

She was getting her daughter back.

"Hey."

Craning her neck, Shane discovered a small woman shifting in the doorway, wringing fingers and wearing a painful smile.

Shane studied her quietly, nodded in response. "Hey. What's up, Mags?"

Maggie Stone stepped forward trepidly, like she was walking on wobbly legs, and shrugging her tiny shoulders, she said meekly, "What are you doing?"

Shane quirked an eyebrow, fingertips stilling over her mouse. "Killing Bianca." Before Maggie could react to the loaded statement, she flicked a hand to the monitor. "The guys that hired Anna want her dead? We're just making them happy."

Maggie frowned, eyes narrowing in confusion, as she came forward, and Shane took in an unsteady breath, letting her see what she creating.

"Oh my God," Maggie breathed, bringing her hands to her mouth. Shane grimaced, shaking her head at the manipulated image, letting her hand fall from the mouse.

Bianca, mangled in mud, the black blotches of blood mottling the soft skin.

Maggie was trembling now, and she could only look a second longer before she shut her eyes against the image, turning away.

"Sorry," Shane said, minimizing the image. "It's necessary. Smoke and mirrors."

Maggie said nothing, arms clutched around herself, breathing in deeply. Then softly, carefully, she managed, "It's real."

Shane pressed her lips together, leaned back in her chair. "Hey- you two will make it, all right? We already saved her life. Now we just gotta take care of some details."

"Like faking her death," Maggie whispered, tears staining her voice.

Shane reached forward, touched her fingers to Maggie's elbow, feeling the girl jerk away. "It's not permanent," she whispered. "All right? We're just greasing some wheels."

"And what's gonna happen?"

Shane shrugged, rolling her shoulders in helpless naivety. "Sydney's working out the details. Don't worry. She's not leaving you behind in this."

Maggie's eyes opened, jerked to meet hers in a glare. "That's not what I was saying. GOD. How selfish do you think I am?"

Shane blinked, rolling back on her wheels. "Woah, hey Mags - not what I was saying. I was just..."

Maggie shook her head, palm slicking around her neck now, massaging in her agitation. "How do you even do that?" she breathed, glancing again at the picture and wincing, looking away. "Do you have like some sort of secret government program that like, will let you change the identities so it really does look like it's Bianca that got shot?"

Shane glanced back at the picture dubiously, before she smiled and said flatly, "Yeah. It's called Photoshop."

Maggie's eyes shifted to meet hers, and finally, FINALLY, she managed to get a crooked smile out of the beautiful girl.

"Funny," she said dryly.

"I'm a funny gal," Shane quipped, before they both fell into companionable silence, Shane glancing back at the minimized screen, then at Maggie, who was now looking at the floor, trembling ever so slightly. "Hey," she said, scooting forward on her chair. "You know - Sydney's gonna be leaving with Bianca in a few."

Maggie glanced up, like a scared, wounded puppy, lower lip caught between her teeth.

Shane smiled gently. "This is it, Mags. The big fucking climax. Between you and me? This can go either way. Syd and Marina - they're really fucking good, but there's always factors. Always shit that can go wrong."

Maggie shuddered, gasped audibly, eyes closing as a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Give her one less thing to worry about," Shane urged. "And stop running - cause you're giving me fucking whiplash."

Maggie's eyes opened, and when Shane smiled gently, she shook her head, laughing painfully, wiping at her tears, before she shuddered again, and turned on her heel.

Shane watched her go, froze slightly when she realized they hadn't been alone.

Sydney stayed in place, watched as Maggie brushed past her, and turned back, catching Shane's small smile.

"Whoever took you for our very own Cyrano?" she asked quietly, affectionately.

Shane took her in, face scrubbed clean of mud, wearing her own black suit, all power and charisma, her Sydney.

She shook her head at her own weakness, and turned back in her chair, bringing back up Bianca's photo. "Don't seem to be good for much else around here."

It was a low blow, but Shane wasn't feeling that charitable now. She clicked about with her mouse, until soft palms landed on her shoulders, and her eyes closed automatically, as Sydney kneaded into her, every so slightly.

Fuuuck.

"You know why I need you here," Sydney whispered, fingers digging into her muscles, "I don’t trust Lena the way I trust you, and Maggie is still a target."

Shane sighed, a soft shudder creeping up her spine as Sydney's words left breathless whispers against her ear.

She moved fast, standing up and turning away, feeling Sydney's palms drop in the process.

She pressed back against the desk, eying her partner. "I feel like a fucking guard dog," she said flatly.

And Sydney smiled bitterly, and suddenly her palms were wrapped around Shane's waist, and they were pressed tightly against each other, Shane flush against Sydney's firm body.

Shane swallowed, inches now from Sydney's loving expression.

"Don't ever think you're less than what you are," Sydney whispered, squeezing her tightly for emphasis, bringing her closer still to her beating heart. "You know what you are to me."

And Shane knew. She did. She was Sydney's best friend and partner and her lovesick puppy.

It still didn't stop her from reaching up to cup Sydney's chin, run fingers along her cheek, and in a sudden loss of control, from dipping her head to Sydney's mouth.

FUCK.

Her heart thumped, and Shane nearly jumped out of her skin at the touch of the feather soft lips, reality coming back in that shot of desire that snapped up her body and ricocheted into her brain.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, jerking back, pushing out of Sydney's arms and shaking her head morosely. "I'm sorry, Syd."

Sydney looked stunned, and rightly so, because fucking Shane had just fucking tried to fucking MAUL HER.

"Shane-"

"I gotta go," she breathed, thumbing behind her. "Look, just... good luck, all right? I gotta go."

She moved fast, pushing out of the room and when the door closed solidly behind her, slammed against the wall, sinking down against it.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

For the first time in years, she wished desperately for the drugs that could make the feelings disappear, and she trembled with withdrawal, pressing her palms to her forehead and cursing obscenely, tears flowing freely against her skin.

"FUCK," she whispered. "FUCK."

Marina wasn't foolish enough not to believe in guns completely. But she never made the mistake to rely on them too much.

She always kept several blades on her, strapped to her thigh and in her boot, in the crook of her back and, when she was wearing long sleeves, right on the inner forearm, tucked away from easy access. Knives were intimate, accurate, silent, and secure.

Anna led her through the maze of hallways, and Marina made a point to keep her hands at her sides, her eyes alert. Already, her blood rushing through her ears, her breath even, she felt her perspiration seep into her neck, and still, she crept softly, quietly.

Walking steadily in front of her, Anna threw back a quick glance, a flirtatious smile.

"We're almost there, Marina. No turning back."

She spoke to her in Spanish, smart of Anna. To get to Marina in her native tongue, in their native tongue, was a skilled tactic. It showed what they had in common, and Anna was more than intent on showing what they had in common.

The prickles of wariness tingled at her, as Marina made sure to keep Anna in front of her, once again ignoring Anna's attempts at conversation. Already, their kisses lingered in her mind, the smug look of desire that Anna made so blatantly clear unnerving her more than she wanted to admit.

She paused suddenly, and Marina froze, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing?"

Anna regarded her, bee stung lips widening, showing glistening white teeth. "Don't you trust me, Marina?"

"Trust was never a part of this deal," she said crisply, eyes on Anna, ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary, here in Anna's huge house.

"I think that's a shame." Anna didn't move. She was stalling.

"The child, Anna."

"In time," Anna said smoothly. She turned into a room, flicked on the lights, and suddenly Marina was in a living room of sorts, Anna with a crystal flask of brandy, pouring the amber liquid into cups. "Drink with me, Marina."

"The child, Anna," she said again, eyes darting quickly around the room, noting the windows, the door on the other side, between two large bookcases.

"In time," Anna repeated. "You'll get what you want, Marina. As soon as I get what I want."

Marina's brow furrowed. "You have what you want," she said dryly. "You'll have your artifacts. You'll have your proof. All I want is that child."

"And all I want is you." Marina said nothing, swallowing hard to contain her irritation, keep herself from physically reacting to the look Anna was giving. "Don't look so surprised," Anna said drolly. "I know you didn't think that kiss was purely for show."

"What makes you think I would give you anything of myself when I already have what I want?" Marina breathed, pushing back the glass when Anna tried to hand it to her.

Anna studied her, took a drink, pinky poking out like royalty. "Because honey, I don't have what I want. What do you want with them really, Marina? You said so yourself. You're not like them. Why are you helping Sydney? Do you have a soul?"

Marina narrowed her eyes, glared now. "The child."

"Stop being so one note," Anna said. "You saved my life, I think it only polite that I try to save yours."

Marina's mouth tightened.

"Don't you think it dangerous, Marina? To try and play both sides? If you keep helping out this cousin of yours, it's going to get around eventually. And Sydney has so many enemies, Marina. Why take on the grief?"

"And you're proposing?" Marina asked dryly.

"A partnership." Anna grinned. "I can offer you so much more than loyalty or a game, Marina."

"You want more than a partnership," Marina said ruefully. "You don't think I can see your desire?"

"I made no attempt to hide it." Anna shrugged, like a spoiled child, placing her drink back down on the round table. "And I think you want me too."

Marina was attracted. She felt no shame for that. Anna had the personality of Francesca, but with her, there were no limits. There was simply the lust for power, for excitement, the lust for control.

She had seen it in Fran and experienced how it had broken them both as a result. But Francesca her lover was never ashamed for her, never made apologies or excuses for the methods she used to achieve her ends. She had never looked at Marina with disgust the way that Sydney had, the way Jenny had looked at her.

In her reminisce, she made a fatal mistake. She didn't move, head locked in conflict, and when Anna moved, she was too fast.

Marina was shoved hard against the wall, her head knocking against the wood, the plaster of the door knob digging into her spine.

Anna kissed her, hard and angry, fingers already possessive against her waist, palmed against her neck, holding Marina still, demanding a reaction.

She didn't fight it. Marina closed her eyes, opened her mouth, lost herself in the hot lips, the darting tongue, the feel of plump breasts massaging against hers: the FUCKING LUST that existed when there was nothing else. No love. No emotion. Pure sex.

It was liberating and real and feral, and for once, Marina forgot about her newfound morals, fingers on beltloops, pulling Anna's groin hard against her thigh, feeling the woman grind against her, panting against her mouth.

Breaking free to gasp for air, Marina buried her face in Anna's cleavage, dipping her tongue along the slope of one breast, and rocked against her.

I promised. I promised I wouldn't leave her. I told her I'd be here and I wouldn't run and I promised. No matter what, I promised I wasn't leaving.

Who knew the promise was so quickly going to come back and bite her in the butt?

And still, Maggie stood, hand clasped on the doorknob, taking in deep, panting breaths, feeling her heart shudder in retaliation, in fear.

She had stood by Bianca when Bianca was with Lena. She had stood by her and with her because Bianca told her she needed her and Maggie believed her. Maggie had to believe her.

Now, her mind was screaming at her not to be a fool, and still, her heart stubbornly resided with Bianca, with the instinct that told her that Bianca needed her. Miranda needed her.

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe she HAD to believe it. Maybe Bianca really did believe it, and just didn't know the truth.

Maggie didn't even know what the truth was.

But after nearly four years, she finally understood that she was desperately in love with Bianca, and now? She had no energy to run from it again.

She twisted, pushed, and then walked in on her nightmare, frozen in the doorway, waiting.

Bianca and Lena both looked up, and when they did, she froze in near panic, managing a stupid, idiotic grin.

"I can leave-"

"Don't you dare."

Lena's outburst confused her, and it was enough to hold her still, frozen in place, as Lena pushed off the desk and came forward, leaving Bianca behind.

"I will let you both talk," the polish woman told her, and then she patted Maggie on the back, making her feel absurdly like a dog, and extracted the doorknob from Maggie's fingertips, shoving it closed behind her, trapping her.

With nowhere to go, Maggie looked back at Bianca, to discover her friend wearing the saddest eyes she had seen. God, she had been crying.

"Bianca?" she whispered, horror overtaking her initial fear, breaking her from her invisible prison. She moved now, fast. "Are you okay?"

It was a question she had asked her so many times, and yet, when she asked it now, yet again, Bianca only stared, wide-eyed and mouth open. Maggie licked her lips self consciously, stopping just ten feet away, unable to look away in her concern.

"Maggie," she heard finally, relief palpable in Bianca's voice, "I'm so not okay it's not even funny. They want me to do this. I don't know if I can-"

"You CAN," Maggie snapped, firm, noble. "You can do anything. I've told you that so many times." Bianca's palms were flat against her desk, and Maggie blinked, realized how hard she was pushing against the wood. "Oh, God, you're going to give yourself splinters, would you stop?!"

She leaned forward, plucking Bianca's stiff hands from the wood, rubbing them between hers, noticing with a jerk of her heart that they were clammy.

"Oh, geez," she whispered, and held them to her mouth, breathing hot air, pressing them against her lips. "It's okay, B. All right? You're gonna do this, and you're gonna get your baby girl back. Okay?"

"Maggie." Bianca's tone was heavy, tear streaked, and her look was nearly desperate. Just the expression on Bianca's face broke Maggie's heart. "Please tell me you'll be here when I get back."

Maggie paused, palms still pressed against her mouth, looking down on beautiful Bianca with her jeweled, tear-streaked eyes.

"I'll be here when you get back," she mumbled against Bianca's palms, and pressed her mouth hard against them, closing her eyes when she realized she was trembling. She shuddered, gasping in, keeping Bianca's hands prisoner, placing them against her too hot cheek.

"Maggie, I'm sorry. I have to explain about-"

"Don’t do that now." Maggie's throat had closed up considerably, and her words were pushed out harsh, almost angry. She swallowed, licked her lips, tried again. " Just concentrate on getting Miranda back," she whispered. "Concentrate on coming back alive. That's all I care about right now, Bianca."

She rubbed at her palms again, vigorously, and when Bianca didn't respond, Maggie finally had to look, and discovered Bianca's eyes shining, glistening with such love and adoration Maggie had no idea what to do with that much emotion.

"I love you so much, Maggie."

She grimaced at that, unsure why just the words, said to her time and time again, meant the very world to her now.

"I know," she said gruffly. "I know, B. I love you, too."

"How can you love me?" Bianca breathed. "When I keep doing this to you? I keep breaking you and you keep-"

"Shut up." Maggie grabbed her by the wrists, locking fingers tightly around them. "DON'T. We can do this when you come back. I DON'T CARE about any of that right now, Bianca. All I care about is you coming back. With Miranda. We can break vases and throw insults and be all needy and dysfunctional later. I promise."

She meant every word, bruising Bianca's delicate grip with her hands, holding onto her so tightly because she was so afraid that the moment she let go Bianca was out of her hands forever.

Suddenly Bianca was against her, forehead pressed against hers, breathing against her mouth, tears staining her own skin.

"I'll bring her back," Bianca whispered, finally freeing her palms to cup them against Maggie's cheek. "I'll bring back our baby."

The tears she had been fighting blurred her vision almost completely, and she tried to blink them away, only succeeded in making them drip down her cheeks, mingle with Bianca's.

"Bring back our baby," she managed huskily. "I'll be waiting for you. For Miranda."

"Okay," Bianca breathed. "I'll bring her back for us."

"Okay."

She believed her. At that moment there was no room for doubts or uncertainly.

Her head tilted, her lips brushed against Bianca's mouth, and suddenly she was kissing her hungrily, desperately, sobbing against her lips, holding Bianca so tightly. So tightly. Bianca's sobs choked in her throat, and she deepened the desperate kiss, breaking it off only to breathe, "I promise."

Bianca's lips against hers again, and again, and then Bianca let go, pausing only to press her forehead to hers one more time, whispering again, "I promise," before she let her go, and Maggie watched helplessly as Bianca strode to the door.

She understood why Bianca didn't look back.

If she had, it would have been too hard to leave. As it was, Maggie collapsed against the desk, and buried her emotion against her hands.

Anna's kisses seared like a hot iron. Her teeth dug into Marina's neck, marking her, branding her.

It was her intention, and Marina let her, tangling fingers in curly, coarse hair, jerking hard when Anna drew blood, grinding her hips hard against Anna's, feeling the spike of heat nearly overwhelm her.

When Anna kissed her, she dug her teeth into Marina's lower lip, purred hard, sucking it into her mouth, laving it with her tongue, hands already shoving up Marina's shirt, scratched with dull fingertips Marina's abdomen.

Anna growled, rode her harder.

You left Jenny in West Hollywood and you've been bleeding ever since and you're so SCARED you'll die from that, that you're closing yourself off. Justify it however you want, but don't hide behind the Derevko name just because you're afraid to fucking feel.

She was suffocating, her heart constricting, ribs tightening around it, like a cage, holding her hostage.

Marina groaned, loud and angry, and suddenly she jerked an arm around Anna's shoulders and shoved, throwing her off balance, slamming Anna face first into the wall, pressing hard behind her.

Breathing hard, Marina held the tip of a knife against Anna's throat.

"The CHILD," she managed, beyond reason. "NOW."

Anna was shocked into silence at first, held hard against the wooden wall.

Then she laughed, dirty and loud. "You have a heart," she breathed against the wall. "You'd think it'd turn me off."

"I'm done with your games and your sex," Marina managed, nearly shaking in her emotion. "My heart is with that child – and my blade is at your throat."

"Fine." Anna's voice was tainted, Marina's word finally taking their toll. She sounded tired, reluctant. "If that's how you want it. If you're in such a hurry. But Marina?" Marina dug her blade in deeper. "We're not done."

Marina released her, let the woman collapse on the floor. "Yes," she said gruffly. "We are."

Anna grinned, taking the hand Marina offered, pulling herself up. "We're not done until I say we're done." She turned, walked casually to the other door, shifting her clothes back into place. "Well?" she said, when Marina didn't move. "What are you waiting for?"

Anna jerked open the door, walked inside. Still panting, Marina took in a shuddering breath, followed her, stepping into the other room.

Into a nursery. Beside her, Anna was thanking a maid, her French eloquent.

Marina licked her lips, tried hard to calm her beating heart, eyes on the center of the room.

In a crib, smiling, happy and beautiful, was Miranda Mona Montgomery.