Author's Note: Answer to a tumblr prompt asking for a holiday fic during Sydney's missing years. Irina crashes at Jack's place, involving a power outage, hot cocoa, scarves and wooly things. I know Christmas is over, but the holidays are a busy time and I just got around to this now. Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!
I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm
Irina drove down the dark Los Angeles street to the very nice yet incredibly nondescript apartment building she was looking for. She parked her car around the block and smiled at the sound her high heels made on the sidewalk as she approached her destination. She had never been here before. It was a new and very exciting experience. Irina loved new things. Anything new and untried could prove to be the adventure of a lifetime. She spent her life searching, seeking, desperately pining for something more, something better. But she always came home again. And though she had never stepped a foot in this building, she knew she was going home.
Everything about the building was an indicator of why it was chosen. No doorman meant electronic security, which was harder to fool. The old open elevator prevented any intruder from having a place to hide. Fourth floor was high enough to discourage casual invasion but low enough to survive a jump into the shrubbery below. The apartment in question was on the corner. Fewer neighbors to disturb, two walls of windows to the exterior for easy getaway. She couldn't have chosen a better place herself.
Irina knocked on the door, and it was answered within seconds. He paused to look through the peep hole and swiftly opened the door and pulled her inside. She laughed. "I'm glad you're eager to see me too!"
"What are you doing here?" Jack asked angrily.
"I knew you'd be alone, and I didn't want that. Not tonight. We always had such special times on this night."
"That was a stupid risk you took, not even in a disguise?"
She shrugged and removed her thin black trench coat. "I was careful enough. Don't worry so much. Just try to enjoy yourself, sweetheart," she told him sweetly as he hung up her coat on the rack by the door. "So this is where you live?"
"It would seem so, yes. I don't even want to know how you knew where I live."
"So I won't tell you." She looked around at the simple, vaguely Italian villa-esque décor. Dark leather sofa and armchair. Pale yellow walls. Wrought iron light fixtures. The beautiful masonry fireplace was devoid of a roaring fire, which would have been welcome on this very un-LA night of freezing weather. "I like it. It suits you."
"Thank you," he answered gruffly, secretly pleased that she approved of his taste. The home they had shared together had been completely decorated by Laura—he was so busy at the Agency in those early days—so she was unaware of his own personal decorating ideas.
She wandered around, not surprised at the lack of personal items. No pictures of friends or family. Not even of Sydney. She asked why.
"I know what she looks like. I have her picture in my head every moment of every day. I don't need a physical reminder that she isn't here."
Irina nodded. She knew exactly how he felt. She too saw their lost daughter's face every time she closed her eyes. Though she had no photographs of Sydney to hide away. Who knows what she would have done if she did. A chill ran down her spine. She rubbed her bare arms.
"Are you cold?" he asked with chivalrous concern.
"A bit. I wasn't expecting this weather in Los Angeles."
"We're having a record-breaking cold spell. Just in time for the holidays. I'll light a fire."
She smiled. "That would be nice." She took a seat on the sofa and kicked off her shoes to curl her legs beneath her. Irina took great pleasure in watching Jack bend over to tend to the fireplace. No one wore a pair of pants like her husband.
"Stop that," he warned.
"Stop what?" she asked innocently.
"Stop checking me out."
She laughed. "I was in prison a long time, Jack. A woman has needs."
He turned to look at her. His good humor was shining in his eyes. "Don't pretend that I didn't take good care of you, honey."
"Oh you certainly did. But not nearly often enough for either of our tastes, I'd bet."
"Well I had to work. Someone has to be the breadwinner in this family. And I couldn't make prison too cozy for you." The fire caught and began a steady blaze. Jack joined Irina on the sofa. "Speaking of cozy…"
She snuggled into his open arms. "Mmm yes. Very."
He held her close and kissed her hair. "I'm glad you came," he whispered.
"Me too."
Just then, the few lights that had remained snapped off. The building gave a loud groan as the power cut out.
"Dammit," Jack swore under his breath. "This is what I get for living in an old building. The damn power grid doesn't know what to do when Southern California actually has to turn on their heaters."
Irina held him close to her and stoked a hand down his broad chest. "It's alright, sweetheart. At least you got the fire going in time. I think it's romantic."
Jack used the cover of darkness to roll his eyes. "How about some hot cocoa? That should keep us warm."
"And how do you expect to make hot cocoa without any electricity?"
"Miss Soviet Union can't figure out how to live without modern amenities?" he teased.
She narrowed her eyes and stayed quiet, instead watching him closely. Irina followed Jack back into the kitchen. He grabbed a kettle off the stove and filled it half with water and half with milk, then mixed in the cocoa powder.
"Why do you have that?" she asked curiously.
"After you left, it was just Sydney and I on this night every year, and this is what I would make for her after dinner. Even after we grew apart, she would still come over for cocoa every year. I bought some this year out of habit. I'm glad I get to use it."
Irina blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Sometimes I forget that your lives didn't just stop when I left."
"What, you think you just paused us? Something you could resume when you got around to it?"
"Something like that. It's how I coped."
Jack didn't respond. Instead, he took the kettle over to the fireplace and placed it inside the grate right next to the roaring fire. "There. Shouldn't take too long to heat up."
"Ingenious," she congratulated.
He rejoined her on the sofa, putting his arm casually around her shoulders. Irina took her silk scarf off of her neck and teased his skin with the texture. He merely smiled, but let his arm slip down to softly stroke her upper arm. At the feeling of her goosebumps, he frowned. "Are you still cold?"
"A bit," she admitted.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." He got up and went to the bedroom. "Watch the kettle!" he called to her.
He returned a moment later with one of his own sweaters and a long, uneven mess of pink yarn. Irina started laughing. "I can't believe you still have it!"
"Sydney kept it, and I couldn't bear to get rid of something she loved so much," he confessed.
"Did she really?"
"Of course. It was the last present she got from her mother."
Instead of letting the comment hurt her, Irina kept smiling. "This was my attempt at domesticity. How did I ever think that I could knit?!" she said, examining the twenty-plus year old scarf.
"It isn't that bad."
"Oh Jack, it's terrible!"
"It's better than the one you made me," he pointed out.
"That's right! I made yours first. It was green. Dark green. That color looked so good with your eyes. Where is it now?"
"I burned it. Along with a few other things."
"Well I'm glad you kept this one." Irina hugged the old scarf, willing herself to keep it together for just a little longer. She had wanted a nice, easy night with Jack. She should have known that wasn't possible on a night with so much significance.
"Me too," he whispered. The kettle whistled and Jack removed it from the fire and grabbed two mugs from the kitchen. "Here we go. Hot cocoa for a cold night."
"Perfect. Thank you."
"Do you want a little whiskey in yours?"
Irina laughed and agreed heartily. "Is this what you did when you shared cocoa with Sydney?"
"Only in mine when she was young. How else could I get through the evening?"
"Now we can share it together. Do I make it easier to suffer through?"
He smirked. "As with most things, your presence is desired, needed, adored, and despised all at once."
"I'm glad that some things don't change."
They clinked mugs.
"S Rozhdestvom, Jack," Irina toasted.
"Merry Christmas, Irina." They each took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. "Normally, I'd say that we should get to bed so Santa can put the gifts under the tree, but…"
"You don't have a tree," Irina pointed out.
"True. And I already got my gift."
"And you can unwrap it on Christmas morning just like all the other lucky boys."
They sipped their cocoa in happy silence, watching the fire and savoring the feeling of each other's arms. Their first Christmas in over twenty years, and it was the best holiday either had had in all that time.