Chapter Eight

December, London

"Sydney loved Christmas," Jack said, staring into the fire. "She loved life."

They were in one of Irina's many safe houses; Irina had come three days earlier to prepare. For some reason – she didn't even know why – she had set up a Christmas tree in a corner of the living room. She'd also bought Jack a gift, though she wasn't yet sure whether or not she would give it to him.

Now, she got up from the couch and sat on the rug next to Jack. She said nothing – words could not bring their daughter back to life. Instead, she took his hand and laced her fingers through his.

"How did the two of us manage to make such a perfect daughter?" He turned to her, his voice dropping an octave. His eyes were darker than usual, drawing Irina in; she didn't even hear his question as she gently pressed her lips to his.

She pulled away almost immediately. "I'm sorry. I—"

He lowered his head, capturing her mouth with his in a searing kiss.

"This reminds me of our first Christmas together," he said after a while. "Do you remember?"

She nodded. They'd made love on Christmas Eve in front of a fireplace. At that point Irina had still thought she was in control of her mission; months later she finally admitted to herself that by then Jack was already in her heart.

"What exactly do you remember?" Jack's thumb brushed the small of her back.

She moved into a kneeling position, then took Jack's hands and placed them at her waist. "I seem to remember us wearing less clothing."

He smiled, then lifted her sweater off. She raised her arms to make it easier, then patiently waited for him to make the next move. He didn't do anything immediately, but placed his hand above her heart, then slowly slid it down to cup her breast.

The last time they'd slept together, she'd been mourning her mother's death. The time before that had been in Panama, and it had been rough and dirty. Tonight, Irina knew, would be different. Jack hadn't looked at her this way since she'd been Laura.

Slowly, he started massaging her breast. She held herself completely still, a part of her wondering what he was really thinking. Then he reached around her with his free hand, and unclasped her bra. Then he took the clip out of her hair so it fell loose, framing her face.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

She leaned forward, placed her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him. His hands moved to her waist again, and he started fiddling with her belt buckle.

"Stand up," he whispered.

She did as he asked; running her fingers through his hair as he slowly unzipped her jeans, then slid them down her hips. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic of her panties, and slid them down her hips just as slowly, letting his hands linger.

Then he looked up at her and when he smiled it was her Jack who smiled, not the Jack he'd become over the last twenty years. She caressed his cheek; he turned into her hand and kissed her palm.

"I've missed you." I love you.

He got to his feet and pulled her against him. As much as she liked the feel of his clothed body against her bare skin, she wanted more. Kissing him, she unbuttoned his shirt, let her hands skim over his chest and shoulders as she pushed it off him. His pants were next, and when they were finally standing skin to skin, he said, "I missed you, too."

They made love slowly, tenderly, and afterwards lay on the rug in front of the fire, watching the flames. Jack traced a pattern on her hipbone, and lightly kissed her shoulder.

"Tell me why you were in prison."

She immediately tensed. "No."

"I want to know."

"No. Ask me anything else and I'll answer you as honestly as I can, but Kashmir is off-limits." Not even Katya knew the full story, and Irina would die before she told a soul what had really happened there.

"I don't need the details." Jack continued to draw random patterns. "I just want to know why."

She pushed his hand away. "Treason."

"You were convicted of treason?" He couldn't hide the shock in his voice.

"Yes."

He said nothing, then moved closer to her. "Lie on your stomach."

"Jack—"

"Please."

Stifling a sigh, she did as he asked. Her breath caught in her throat as he began kissing her back, his hands massaging the areas his mouth had yet to visit. She felt the tension leave her.

They woke up in front of the now-dead fireplace the next morning, slightly sore from sleeping on the floor, but nonetheless cheerful.

"I wish you could stay longer," Irina said, for the moment not caring how much of her heart she revealed with her words.

"Me too."

"I have a present for you." Irina retrieved a gift-wrapped box from beneath the tree. "Open it."

She hid her grin as he carefully unwrapped the box then lifted the lid to reveal a Ruger handgun. "Merry Christmas, Jack. Do you like it?"

He laughed, then pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. "You have always known exactly what to get me."

"I have its twin." She ran her fingers over the barrel of the gun, almost caressing it. "His and hers artillery."

He laughed again, then looked at her for a moment. "Get up for a second."

"I'm quite comfortable, Mr. Bristow."

He began tickling her ribcage, and she surrendered. Jack dug in his bag and took out a gift-wrapped package the size of a shoebox.

Irina couldn't resist teasing: "Is this a tracker?"

"I prefer to give trackers in other ways." He held out the box. "Open it later."

"Okay."

They smiled at each other. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas."

They kissed again. "Flight. Three. Hours." Jack said between kisses.

"We can save time if we shower together."

"You're probably right."

An hour later, after Jack had finally left for the airport, Irina sat on the couch and held his gift in her hands. She unwrapped it slowly, and smiled when she realized the care he'd taken to wrap it.

It was a shoebox, she discovered, but instead of shoes there were dozens of letters, some loose, some tied together with ribbons. She picked up one and unfolded it, then gasped when she realized what he'd given her.

Dear Mommy, it began, in a child's careful script, I miss you very much . . .

"Thank you, Jack," she whispered.