Angels With Even Filthier Souls

Fizzy Lizzy

Apr 13, 2004
Red Deer..AB..CA
FanFic Title: Angels With Even Filthier Souls
FanFic Description: "Sometimes a satisfying lie, Sydney, can do more good than the awful truth." - Jack Bristow (The Awful Truth, 4.03 Alias)
Author's Notes: First off I would like to apologize to the readers/JJ if I protray the characters differently then you would like/think they should be protrayed. I'm just running with this and we'll see how it goes. Any and all feedback-positive or negative-is definately welcome.
Background: Irina isn't dead because she went to Jack and they formed the plan to frame her death. Sydney doesn't know that Irina is still alive. Katya has already escaped CIA custody. Vaughn is still dealing with Lauren's betrayal, however chances are very high that she is not as dead as she appears. Sark-unlike some people are convinced-is not related to the Derevkos or Bristows. He is, however, involved with the youngest Derevko sister, Yelena/Elena and he isn't as weak as he protrays so often. There is also open tension between the Derevko sisters which go back to something that happened years before and Elena has not forgiven her sisters for it.
Classification: Everything is possible - smut, language, violence, and adult situations. Like I said, everything is definately fair game.
Dedication: I want to dedicate this FanFic to Lili and thank her for being such an amazing friend to me. :shamefullyembarrased: Love you girl! I'm also dedicating this FanFic to my computer. :wacky: Now maybe it won't be pissy at me and keep skrewing up with me since I didn't dedicate my last FanFic to it. *prays* :unsure:
Disclaimer: Alright these characters-& Alias-belong to the god of TV shows, JJ Abrams. However, there are a few characters that he made up but I'm giving them history and creating/forming their personality. I have taken his caracters and given them more backbone *coughsarkcough* as well as writing how I think JJ should write it, cuz I seriously don't like the thought that Irina is dead. Stupid Lena Olin and/or her publicist. Grrr!! :argue: As for the title of my FanFic, that is from one of the songs off the Elektra Soundtrack that I thought just absolutely applied to these characters and this FanFic.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Summary: Jack & Irina have fooled the right people into believing Irina's dead, but now comes the hard part. The trust. Meanwhile, Elena is out in the world-also believing Irina is dead-and working to get Sark extracted from CIA custody without them finding out about her. Sydney and Vaughn are trying to work on their relationship, while Nadia and Weiss try to forge a new one. What happens when when the Derevko/Bristow family run into each other? Emotions run high and weapons are not hidden.

Fizzy Lizzy

Apr 13, 2004
Red Deer..AB..CA
Chapter 1: The Flight Of The Prisoner

It wasn't that he was nervous. He definately was not one to get nervous easily. It was more of the feeling that you've done something so stupid that you want to take it back, but you already know it's too late to do anything but continue with the plan. The plane was now cruising at the maximum altitude, taking it's passengers towards one of the many islands in the Caribbean. From there, Jack was going to take a two person plane to a smaller island, where he would meet up with his dead wife.

Irina Derevko. Just the very name made his back shudder. Hatred. Anger. Betrayal. Rage. Awe. Lust. Love. Jack's inner demons all battling to take over his very soul. To use his body as their machine. Killing, f***ing, betraying, lying. They all blended as one in his being just as his feelings for Irina had all melded into one. It was hard for him-now-to figure where one emotion, one single thread of feeling started and another one ended.

Tormented was one of many words that could be used to describe Agent Bristow, but not one that he liked hearing. Especially not by that ingrate of an agent that his daughter seems to have taken the fancy to. Agent Michael Vaughn. Now that was a name that Jack disliked. The weakness of the man was despicable. Atleast Danny Hecht's absence of testosterone in his body was excusable, considering that he wasn't a CIA agent who was expected to protect the safety and security of the USA while being haunted by images of his dead wife.

Lauren Reed. What Jack felt for her was a mixture of disgust and amazement. He hated that she had gotten as far into the CIA-as a Covenant mole-as she had, but he was still surprised at how easily she made Vaughn fall "in love" with her while she slowly ground the knife into his back. So much like Irina, and yet so different. Lauren was a woman that he admired. She knew what had to be done and wasn't afraid to do the dirty work, much unlike his own daughter and that hideous Agent Vaughn.

Sydney Bristow. His daughter. What could be said about her! She has come so far since their SD-6 days, and yet he saw just how stupid she could be when she let her emotions control her actions. The very fact that she had opened her house and self up to Nadia Santos never ceased to tick Jack. Here was the spawn of his wife's betrayal. Not just towards him but also towards Sydney, and she was welcoming that girl into their lives. And then Sydney's insesant relationship with Michael Vaughn. He often had to ask himself-over and over-just how blind she really was! That man that she confessed to love, had met and married-not to mention "fell in love"-a woman not even two years after it appeared that she had died. That spineless jellyfish.

His sister-in-law, Katya Derevko, had surprised him by trying to shoot his daughter, but something had felt wrong. Now that she had escaped custody, all he could do now was to question what had really happened and why. She had been a spy for half a century almost, and yet she just "happened" to not realize that the gun she recieved from Sydney was not loaded?! Interesting.

As for his other sister-in-law, Yelena, not much was known or said about her. Irina had seemed to dislike that particular subject, which only made him even more curious as to who she was. Jack didn't know whether or not she was older or younger. Spy or not. He knew absolutely nothing about her and that unsettled him. Severly!

Julian Lazarey. Julian Sark. Son of a b****. Bastard. All of those phrases and names described him perfect to Jack. He hated him from the moment they met, and that emotion had never ceased or even waned. Thank god, he was still in CIA custody and being that blubbering idiot that had become so familiar of him.

His mind wandered over many things as the plane kept flying, hitting an occassional pocket of air every now and then but nothing enough to force him to pay attention. Within hours, he would be standing in the same room as Irina Derevko. Breathing the same air. Feeling that same rush that he had felt so strong in Panama. The need to stroke that silky skin. Caresse her core as she writhed under him, helpless for the only time in their lives. Have her muscles clench around his fingers or his c*** or his tongue while he f***s her harder before her milky cum bathes him and her tangy scent fills the bedroom.

She was-and always has been-his addiction. His drive. His drug. Even while they were married-or more precisely, even while he was married to Laura-he had dreampt about her on missions. Envisioned her perfect form and the look on her face as she would cum. He would hurry home just to f*** her. No, back then it wasn't f***ing like it was now. He made love to her. He bared his very soul and his whole being to her, and in return his heart had been ripped out by those sexy hands. The very hands that had massaged him, that teased him by f***ing her own clit, that had driven him crazy while they rubbed his c***. Those very hands that were so seductive, so sexy, so caring. So deadly.

Just thinking about Irina and picturing her body as it quivered under the throws of passion was enough to make Jack fidget in his seat. He knew the plane was going to land in a couple of hours, and he also knew that if he didn't get some sleep before that occured, he would not only be snappy from lack of sleep, but he would also be weaker and the chances of him falling prey to Irina's manipulations would be hightened exponentially.

He wanted nothing less then to keep imagining her in his mind as her body gave itself up to him. As they formed into one being. As their moans rose into the air, mixing and becoming one before falling back down to the two sweaty bodies entangled in a hopeless heap of limbs. As they f***ed.

God, how that woman could drive him to the edge of insanity one minute and then make him forget everything in the world and just know the feeling of needing to have his c*** banging against her tight flesh. To hear her groans of ecstasy while she cried out his name and begged him for more. Urged him on.

Jack's breathing suddenly became laboured as images of Irina's gorgeously sexy breasts heaving, sweating, and panting flashed through his mind. He could feel his c*** hardening and start to press against the crotch of his suit. His mind lectured him about the dangers of not resting before seeing the one being he was addicted to, while his c*** screamed for some release.

His insides were at war with each other. The spy in him trying to win over the sexual being in him. In the end, it was the man in him that won out. Carefully and quietly, Jack slipped out of his seat and walked towards the bathroom on the airplane to take care of the result of his little day dream. Once inside the cubicle, he knew that he would find temporary relief, but never release. He had known-for many years-that he would never be over his addiction to that woman. He'd realized that after the first time they had ever had sex. And now, decades later and he was still addicted. She was still his wife and forever would be his captive. He had promised in his wedding vows, 'til death do them part. Apparently his body took that to heart.

He was her prisoner. For now, and for always.

Fizzy Lizzy

Apr 13, 2004
Red Deer..AB..CA
Chapter 2: The Anniversary Present

Julian Sark's back bounced against the wall of the van as it transported him-yet again-from one CIA prison to another. But this time was different. The guards were acting differently to him and they didn't seem to wear a mask of obvious disdain for him, but he didn't care. He was just tired of having to play this weak role. Tired of being Julian Sark, the man with allegiances to no man. Well, maybe that part was true. He had no allegiances to any man.

Suddenly the vehicles stopped, but something was amiss. Where was the CIA headquarters and his next holding cell?! Where were the countless guards, ready to kill him with one shot to the head if they thought he was trying to escape?! Why was he in front of a house?!

He didn't have much time to think of anything beyond that before the back doors to the van swung open. Expecting to see men with guns, the surprise was visible on his face to see the person who now stood in the doorway.

"You had better have gotten me something amazing for our anniversary, Julian, or I swear that I'm going to send you back to the CIA with a ribbon in your hair." The smile on her face belied her voice. "Happy anniversary, baby." With that said, she leaned in and kissed him passionately while one of her men unlocked the cuffs on Julian's wrists and hands.

Once free, his hands quickly found their way into her loose auburn tresses and soon became entangled in them while his mouth ravished hers, tongue exploring the curves and angles of her seductive mouth. With a quick tug, he had pulled her down onto his lap so she was straddling him while his hands slipped up her shirt to cup her breasts.

Even through the bra, she could feel his hands tweaking her nipples and the desire building up within her. To the world, she was Illeana Scotts. She had inherited her immense wealth from her deceased parents and was married to a businessman who was on the road a bit while she stayed at home and watched after their two rottweilers. Her life was quite uneventful and she lived a luxurious and extravagant lifestyle. She had grown up in Switzerland before moving to France at the age of 14, where she quickly picked up French and fell in love with her husband when she was only 16 before they had a small wedding when she was 20 and he was 22. To everyone else, her name was Illeana Dominique Scotts. To the one man who meant more to her than her own life, her real name was Yelena Derevko.

Yelena Derevko or Illeana Scotts. It didn't matter what Julian called her, she knew he was seeing her. They had met when she was 16 and he was 18. They had gotten married-on the beach-when they were 20 and 22, and they were in love. Truthfully, she hated the name Yelena Derevko. She hated everything that went with that life. Her family, her history, her name. She preferred the name and life of Illeana Scotts. It had almost become a refuge to her, just like Julian's arms were. The names Yelena and Elena seldom earned even a backwards glance from her. She only replied to that of Illeana.

Illeana had known from the moment she had met Julian Sark that they were soulmates. That this was the man she was going to marry. Now-9 years later-she can still honestly say that she is married to her soulmate. Over their relationship, he has never once given her cause to question his loyalty or his allegiances. She knows that she is the only one he will always be true to. She has never questioned who he really loved. She has never questioned that he was not using her. She has never questioned the fact that they would die for the other.

Nine years and still head over heels in love. Their marriage was not one of lust or for the sole purpose of stealing intel. Theirs was one based on love and on trust. On respect and on the desire to be together. Illeana Scotts and Julian Sark's marriage was a true one. It was filled with love and compassion towards one another, but it was also the only place where they could find simplicity. They weren't spies when they were together. They were simply a man and a woman, madly in love with one another and they were happy.

She had known about his other women. Isabella, Tonya, Catherine, Allison, Lauren, the list went on and on. Women that Sark had slept with and whose emotions he had toyed with. In fact, Illeana had encouraged it and had told him each one for him to f***. It wasn't just pointless f***ing. No, there was always due cause and reason to each elicit affair. Each one had a purpose, whether it was to gain intel, form an alliance, or simply keep an eye on possible enemy activity, he always f***ed with a plan.

Illeana had hunches-not so much hunches as the gift of reading other people and their motives even before they knew it themselves-and she reacted accordingly. She had learned of many things and told Sark how to react to counter her knowledge. If she ever felt uncertain about something, she never would send him in. Never. They both knew that although he put his life on the line because of her "hunches" often, she would never let him if she was not 110% certain of the other party's reaction to her counter-plan. It was that simple.

She had-in fact-been the one to tell him that if the world viewed him as they now did, as Julian Sark: the man with flexible loyalties, then they wouldn't see him as big of a threat as they would if he was a big tough guy. And his chances of recieving a premature end to his life was decreased exponentially.

He was as different from his weak persona as night is from day. Sark was not some helpless dog who flip-flopped from one master to another, changing them like he changed his socks. His only allegiance belonged to Elena. To Illeana. To his wife.

Sark's hands had slipped under Illeana's bra and were now pinching and teasing her nipples while the pleasure of it was on the verge of being painful as well. Her tongue was dualing against his while her hips ground her pelvis against his crotch, making her well aware of the full arousal deep within his soul. It had been months since they had been together like this. He enjoyed f***ing those women-including Lauren-but there was something that he shared with this woman that he had never found with another. A connection. He knew her true self and she knew his.

"Ms Scotts."

Illeana heard her name called by one of her men but ignored it as she felt her husband's hands on her body and their mouths ravashing one anothers, moans combining and making a soft background noise.

"Ms Scotts."

There it was again. Damn men. "What?!" she snapped sharply at him, causing him to jump back slightly.

"I'm..I'm sorry for..for.."

"Oh spit it out for god's sake!"

"We should be moving this inside before the CIA or anyone..." he lets the rest linger in the air, not speaking what everyone knows might happen.

She turns back to her husband and strokes his cheek lovingly. "You. Me. Bedroom. Bed. Now! Think we can make it?!" There was that devilish twinkle in her eye as she smirked at him.

"Absolutely." With that, Julian Sark picked up his grinning wife and hopped out of the back of the van before carrying her into the house and up to the bedroom she directed him towards. Once inside, he threw her on the bed and lay down beside her, kissing her hungrily and passionately. With a slight hoarseness to his voice-showing how much he wanted, no needed to have her-he spoke to her. "Five years married and eight years sleeping together, and I'm still addicted to you." His lips formed into a smile on their own at the sight of her smirk. "Happy anniversary, love." At that, his lips met hers again in a starving kiss and his arms snaked-securely-around her waist before pulling her firmly against him.
Jan 21, 2004
Linköping, Sweden
Ohhh, I like this!!!

I love Jack's point of view, couldn't agree more to his thoughts about Vaughn and Sydney. Interesting about Lauren...

And Sark, nice twist! I hope you are right about:
He was as different from his weak persona as night is from day. Sark was not some helpless dog who flip-flopped from one master to another, changing them like he changed his socks.

Please PM me when you update!

Fizzy Lizzy

Apr 13, 2004
Red Deer..AB..CA
PM List:

Chapter 3: Past, Present, & Future
"Would you stop pacing before you drive me crazy?!" Katya Derevko was lounging on the couch in the living room at one of her many residances as her eyes followed her old sister-Irina's-every step.

"I'm not pacing!"

"Yea, and I'm not a russian spy. Irina, you need to just sit down and relax."

"Jack is going to be here in a few hours."

"I know that, but it's not going to help your case if you're snapping his head off the second he walks in the door. Calm down and when he gets here, then you'll tell him."

"I can't tell him. Kat, I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have asked him for his help."

"Well, what's done is done."

"I'm not an idiot!"

"You know you have to tell him anyways."

"Tell him what?!" Irina snapped at her sister. "That my own flesh and blood is trying to kill me?! That because of something that happened a few years back, Yelena wants me dead?! Tell him WHAT?!"

"Well that's definately a good start. But what about the other thing?"

She shook her head, no. "No." The finality that she spoke in just that one word was something that all the Derevkos seemed to possess. They could finish a conversation or end a man's life in just one word. One little word.

Irina Lida Derevko was born in Moscow at 3:47 am on a snowy March 22, 1951. The meaning of her middle name definately fit her, "Beloved By All" and that she most certainly was. From her friends to her proffessors to strangers. That simple fact often drove a wedge between Irina & Katya's relationship. Irina was outgoing and fun-loving. She was the life of the party, sexy, funny, amazing, and she knew it. She knew the affect that she had on people and this only fueled her on to use it even more.

Ekatarina Sezja joined the Derevko family on August 20, 1954 in Moscow on a very rainy and bleak evening. She was three years younger than Irina and had always grown up as the youngest child. Except for when she was in trouble, she preferred to go by the name of Katya. She was spoiled and grew up getting her own way all of the time. She had her whole family wrapped around her little finger, but she was still quite shy at times. When it was just her family, Katya seemed to glow and loved to talk about anything and everything. When she was with others, she remained silent, preferring not to talk or draw too much attention to herself in any way.

After Katya & Irina were out of the house and their mother dead, their father remarried a young woman no more than Irina's age and to them, Yelena Stasia Derevko was born on December 24, 1979 in Makhachkala (which is now in the Republic of Dagestan). She was a very happy child and revelled in any and all attention payed to her. Her mother died when Elena was only 3 years old while giving birth to a baby boy-who was stillborn-but this didn't seem to affect her as much as it would others. She had her two older sisters-who loved doting on her-and she had her father. Elena grew up-for the most part-as a very energetic child and a go getter from the beginning. Nothing fazed her and nothing frightened her or so it seemed. But then again, not everything is what it appears to be.

Irina loved Elena as much as she loved Sydney and Nadia. To her, her youngest sister couldn't have been more dear to her heart than if she had come from her very own womb. With this strong emotional connection between them also came feelings-to Irina-like that of a mother bear. The need to protect her offspring from danger that they either chose or any threats against them, no matter the cost. This did save Elena's life a few times, but it also was the thing that brought the wedge between them.

She could-to this day-still see the expression on her Elena's face as she held the gun pointed at Irina.

"Elena, put that down." Irina wasn't begging her sibling, but more of telling her she's been a bad girl.

"Go to hell, Irina." There was a fire of the gun that followed her words, and then silence. A deadly silence.

"Go to hell, Irina" had been the last thing she had heard before Elena fired the gun at her and she had fallen to the floor. The bullet had grazed her lung and hadn't caused too much damage, but the one thing it did do was make her realize that she was only human. That at the end of that long, dark tunnel there was no a bright light to bring her to heaven. There was only more blackness and even more loneliness then ever before.

Hell. Irina didn't have to die again to be there. After her first "death", she'd awoken up in hell and that hell had continued for the past quarter of a century with no refuge or reprive within sight or within reach.

With a quick glances at the clock, she knew that Jack should be there within two hours and that thought alone gave her both comfort and made her even more on edge. The feelings she had felt during their marriage had changed gradually. At first she just felt what she had to feel to make him believe her, but eventually it grew into how she truly felt. The looks of love that she gazed upon him with were not just a facade to her anymore. They were real.

Although Irina always had that tough look on when she was around Jack, inside she was just like a teenager with a crush. A huge one. Part of her wanted to tell him that she loved him and to never hurt him again, but that wasn't the part that always won out. The spy in her told her that if she revealed her cards to him, he'd kill her or worse, hurt her. That was a risk she was not willing to take.

"Alright, fine." Katya finally broke into the silence. "You won't tell him. It's your skrewed up life, I guess." With that, she got up and left the living room.

Irina turned to stare out the window. She knew her sister was out there and would soon know-for sure-that she wasn't dead. She knew that her two daughters who she longed to see more than anything in the world, believed that she had been killed.

Lies, lies, lies. That's what her life was so full of. Lies and bulls***. Nothing could erase the past no matter how much Irina prayed that it could be. Nothing could make the pain of betrayal just vanish, and nothing could make the war wounds heal overnight. Nothing. All they could do now was to try and work with what little they had and to push on until the past was-if at all possible-made right and a new future lay ahead.
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