Panama, Six Months Earlier

"We need to be up early."

"Yes."

"We should get to bed."

"Yeah, we should."

Their heads were only inches apart and so Jack was irresistibly drawn to close the distance. The kiss was full of pent up passion, anger, and frustration, 25 years worth. But it wasn't long before he pulled away.

"I can't do this! You're not Laura!

"But I am! When we were alone, truly alone you saw the real me. My love for you was not a contrivance. Come to bed with me, Jack. I'll prove it to you. Please, just trust me," she pulled him back down onto the bed with her.

Irina placed a hand inside the open neck of his shirt and continued kissing him, opening her mouth to allow his tongue entrance. When Jack palmed her breast, she let out a low moan. She became bolder, slipping her hand down to the front of his pants, opening them, and caressing the hard flesh she found there.

"Jack, please! I want you!"

Jack groaned and managed to extract himself from her arms. It had finally penetrated his fogged brain that she had asked him to trust. He had done that once before and look where it had gotten him. He just couldn't risk putting his faith in her again. He was too afraid she'd betray him to allow her back in. Besides, he'd placed a passive transmitter in her wine.

"I can't do this," he repeated, "You are not my wife!"

"But you are my husband; I've never felt any differently. I only want to take care of you and Sydney. I will do anything to protect you, even if it means sacrificing my life."

"I'll believe it when I see your dead body," cynicism painted his words.

Irina was stung. "Fine. I suggest we get to bed then."

Jack closed his eyes and cursed at the memory, "Shit."