Part VII
He tried to remember how many times he had watched her like that. How many times he had been lying next to her, surprised to really be with her in that way. And despite the guilt and the discomfort that had kept on coming back to him along with the thoughts of Teri and Kim, there had always been this other feeling somewhere underneath. A sort of incredulous happiness and he'd imagine his eyes glowing like those of a child taking its very first steps. Wide eyes filled with joy and disbelief, so excited about actually walking. If he' ever allowed himself to show it. And somewhere in the back of his mind he would wonder if they would have a chance, if, well, if things were different. But he'd push the thought aside.
His eyes would rest on her face just like now, fascinated to find yet another, unfamiliar part of her. Relaxed, off guard, vulnerable. Her sleep was usually the only time and space where she was defenseless. At work she always seemed so in control, he'd used to think. Emotional, sometimes, of course. But always holding her ground, keeping that fence up to protect herself in a world that would punish every weakness. Now he smiled sadly. He had thought they shared exactly that - the pressure and the emotional stress stemming from their line of work and the problem of dealing with it. After all, that had been the one connection he had missed in his marriage. Teri had never been able to understand that part of him and how could she. How could she possibly have understood what he hadn't been able to tell or explain to her. But it had worn him out and in their time of crisis and the separation he had found Nina to be the one to finally cover that field. Someone to share things with, someone to understand, without words, without lies, without explanations, without excuses.
Or at least he had thought so. Not knowing that her iron outer skin hadn't just served the purpose of protecting her emotionally but had indeed been vital as any mistake on her part would have been the end of the road for her.
But the really sick part about their twisted relation, he realized suddenly, was that despite her lies, despite her betrayal, she still had been the only one to understand. To comprehend his loneliness, his bitterness. Just in a different way than he had thought. Whatever her intentions had been and whatever she had done to him and behind his back, before, while or afterwards - in a sick way their affair, as brief as it had been, had gotten him exactly what he had been in need of. Someone to understand and comfort him, in a way Teri hadn't been able to.
Face it, Jack, no matter how close you are with another person, you are still on your own. You should know. Her words from just a few hours earlier echoing in his head. Yes, he should know. He had loved Teri so much and felt so close to her, but still he had been forced to keep a part of him to himself. To be careful not to reveal too much of that dark place inside of him because he had known he would never be able to explain it to her and she would never be able to cope with it. So he had decided to never let her see that part. Their separation had been the result. But she had let him come back. She too had not been willing to just give up on them. And now, he would never know. If they could have managed, make it work in the long run. If there love would have been strong enough.
Nina's face right in front of him. Her features relaxed, soft in her sleep. He examined her closely and a thought came floating in and out of his mind, like driftwood. How easy it would be to just stretch out his hands and with one quick move break her neck.
He knew she hated being that defenseless, she'd told him once. He had been asking her why it was that she always turned away from him in her sleep, avoiding his touch or his embrace and she had answered that it probably was some automatism. A reflex born out of her discomfort with being so vulnerable while not awake. His gaze traveled from her forehead over her closed eyelids and down her cheek while his mind wandered to his gun in the other room, scattered somewhere on the floor along with all his clothes and belongings. His eyes reached her throat and came to rest on the scarred skin and just like earlier, the sight of it touched him in a way he couldn't comprehend. Her wound eventually revealed to him.
It doesn't matter how much you love someone or how much they love you back - there are certain things that can never be shared. In the end, we are all alone.
It had a magnetizing effect on him. He couldn't take his eyes off of it, neither stop his fingers running over it. The scar tissue felt thick and rough, hardly treated, just sewed up in a rush to serve the purpose - keeping her alive. He knew the anger was coming back to him but at the same time there was something else. His fingers still resting on her skin he looked up to her face again. She was sound asleep.
Carefully he entangled himself from the bed sheets and got up. He stepped into the living room and closed the door behind him. Casting his eyes round the room he reached for his pants, lying right there on the parquet floor. Suddenly he felt hungry and thirsty and zipping his jeans up he made his way over to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water. Drinking the cold liquid he found himself standing in exactly the same place where he had spotted her hours before. But the beach and the ocean in front of the window had disappeared in the darkness now. He wondered what time it might be and looked around for a clock but found none. He walked back to where the rest of his clothes was to get his mobile out of his jacket but the first thing he caught sight of was his holster with the gun. Automatically his eyes wandered to the bedroom door to find it still closed. He stared at it for a moment, picturing her lying there on the other side, beyond the wall that separated them. She would never know what had happened. He could do it right now while she was still asleep. It would show more mercy than she deserved.
He shook his head, bent down and grabbed his phone. Flipping it open he checked the display. One missed call.
Reality hit him with one mighty blow and he felt his legs turning weak. He recognized the familiar number and he knew he had to return the call, but suddenly he was out of options what to say. He had been prepared to tell the truth. That he had left to take care of something, like he had said and that she had been that unfinished business. That he had found her and killed her and that it was over now, once and for all. Or, if it had turned out that way, that he hadn't found her. That it had been a false lead and that he would come back now. Either way he had been prepared to live with the consequences. But now - what could he possibly say? The truth? Still? That he had come here for her and that he had found her but that she was still alive? And what would that implicate? He knew it, of course he did. He had to call CTU. She was still a fugitive, a murderer and terrorist, high on the wanted list. And just because he suddenly couldn't kill her in cold blood anymore she wasn't to walk free. He had to bring her in or have someone bringing her in and that way they would at least get the satisfaction of seeing her being duly punished.
He felt the urgent need to move and walked over to the sink again. Staring into the darkness he lingered in the silence for a long moment before turning his attention to the phone in his hand. With a beeping sound the connection started to establish itself and he held the small device to his ear, still not sure what to do.
"Put it down, Jack," her voice came from behind him. He turned around and found himself looking into the muzzle of a gun. She was standing on the threshold to the bedroom, dressed in a quickly buttoned blouse. Targeting him, her face expression seemed businesslike and serious, hiding the sad notes of disappointment and anger. From the corner of his eye he could spot his own gun, still on the floor, halfway covered by his jacket. Of course she kept a gun of her own somewhere around. How could he be so stupid to turn his back on her for just a second. These last hours hadn't changed a thing. Whatever it was that had balanced his anger, as quickly as that it disappeared.