|
The
Middle Sister
By LizBee Summary:
Katya, Jack and Irina. In any order you please.
Katya is not accustomed to kissing, or being kissed. She keeps her nails and hair short, and her body covered, and she is rarely touched. She rarely touches in return, except to deal pain. She is not like her sisters. Irina and Elena are more alike than different. For all that they hate to admit it. She, Katya, is the middle child. The awkward one. She'd been a teacher, once. Before Irina had appeared, that rainy night. Running from her former masters, burning with fear and anger and passion. Katya didn't care for ancient Europeans, or prophecies, but her sister had needed her. And Katya believed in family. Still believes in family, else she wouldn't have returned to America to meet her erstwhile brother-in-law. Irina had presented her with opportunities, and now Katya teaches different kinds of lessons. Some things don't change, though, and Katya still covers her body and never lets anyone touch her. Usually. She thinks, as she boards the plane, that Jack understood this. For all that he doesn't know, he seemed to recognise the space she creates around herself. The plane taxis down the runway. Katya lies back and allows the California sun to warm her face for a few minutes more, and wishes she could have met Sydney. She has an image of her niece, created out of the spaces in Irina's rare conversations. And Jack's. Katya would like to think that Sydney might be like her, just a little. She saw a picture, once, but the face was obscured by shadow. She remembers Sydney's hands: large and broad. Unfeminine. Like Irina's. Like Katya's. Elena is smaller, paler, more delicate. But then. Elena is a law unto herself, and Katya will never understand her. Or her choices. She doesn't fully understand Irina, either. There have been too many years apart, and Katya cannot imagine what Irina has experienced. But she trusts her older sister. Irina would look out for her: she always has. There's the key, she thinks. She would never turn her back on unpredictable Elena. Who would sacrifice her family if it suited her aims, whatever they may be. "Isn't that what family's for?" she'd asked Jack, and even then, she'd been thinking of kissing him. She surprises herself sometimes. But surprise is good: it means she's still alive. Sometimes she wonders. She thinks that perhaps Sydney knows that feeling, although she really has no evidence for what Sydney might think or feel. One day, Katya promises herself, she will share a meal with Sydney. Without her parents. She would tell her of Great-Grandmother Tatya, maid to a Romanov. The earrings she'd taken as payment for arranging her mistress's escape, and the unmarked grave where the woman lay now, forgotten by all but the Derevkos. In a way, treachery runs in the family. And Elena takes after Great-Grandmother. Katya scowls. A few days in America, and she is becoming maudlin. Pitiful. She is supposed to be better than this: she is the stolid middle sister. The one who struggled to learn to read, while her sisters embarked on their third languages. Even now, it suits her to go unnoticed, untouched, unaffected. She is the plain one, but only because she chooses to be. She shifts in her seat and adjusts her jacket. It was a kind of shield. A disguise. Don't look at me. I'm solid and asexual and not worth your attention. She is good at her job, even if it has taken years. She is fast and clever and she never gets involved. Ah, but family is always different, and Irina is very much concerned with family. Katya closes her eyes, and permits the smallest of smiles to touch her lips. She has kissed Jack. And although she isn't accustomed to making such judgements, she doesn't think he minded. It is not a problem. She won't allow it to be a problem: she never gets involved. Irina says it's her greatest strength. Irina says she envies her that skill. Irina … doesn't need to know every detail of this mission. Trust runs both ways, and Katya's sister needs her. She opens her eyes and meets her reflection in the window. And she is still smiling. Just a little. end
|