by Vanzetti

During his latest period as the guest of the CIA, Sark was in solitary confinement for 83 days. Before that, he was in a cell for two years, in a high-security facility; there were other prisoners, but he never saw them. Now, the low voices of mourners humming around him, he has never felt so alone.

He wishes he were haunted, but the ghosts that should be hounding him are silent, even here in this Moscow ossuary, the one place he should never have come. Irina wouldn't have bothered to visit his grave, he's sure of that. What use would he be to her, dead? But of the women he's loved, she's the only one to have a tomb, so here he is. It seems impossible to him that Irina Derevko has died: all that vitality, all that willpower, closed in this marble box? No, her bones are not in this cold place, if indeed they rest anywhere. He shudders.

Allison lived longer than she'd had any right to; Lauren was crushed when she tried to seize control. Irina... He never expected to be free of Irina. If her turns his head, he thinks, he'll see her out of the corner of his eye, watching him, disappointed in the sentimentality he displayed by coming here. She will smile, and he will go to her.

The only suitable offering would be libations of blood, so he came empty-handed. He isn't ready to raise this ghost. One last time he brushes the marble with his fingers, bows his head, then turns away.


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Alias is owned by JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Production, and ABC. No copyright infringement intended, and no profit made. Original story elements my own.