Chapter 5
They didn't get into their hotel room until 9pm. There had been a long line of passengers bumped off of flights - Jack was just glad that they had gotten a room at all. When the desk clerk had apologetically told him that no king beds were available, just doubles, Jack had been quietly relieved. He was bone-tired, and had not been looking forward to sleeping on the floor.
Irina commented, her gaze sweeping the room, "A real bed. A real shower. The little things in life." She grinned over her shoulder at Jack, then headed straight for the shower. Jack sat down by the phone and started making calls. To Langley, so that they would not expect them tonight. To housekeeping, to get Irina some toiletries. To room service, to get some dinner sent up.
Thirty minutes later, Irina came out of the shower bundled in a fluffy white robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. She looked, thought Jack, incredibly desirable. But he had himself well under control. There was no way he would get sucked into that vortex again, giving her another hold over him. They ate dinner in companionable silence. Once or twice Jack looked up and caught Irina looking at him, pensively.
Irina often did her best thinking in the shower. Tonight had been no exception. She was pretty confident she had figured out what was going on with Jack, and knew that she'd find out for sure soon.
With dinner cleared, Jack started to empty his carryon. As he did, it occurred to him that Irina had nothing to unpack. Turning to her, he said as casually as he could, "What are you planning to wear to bed?"
Irina grinned at him. "Nothing," she leered.
Jack stripped off his shirt and tossed it to her. "Here," he said shortly. Irina pretended to pout, but then moved to drop her robe and put the shirt on. Jack quickly turned his back towards her. No sense pushing his luck. He stripped down to his boxers and turned back, relieved to find that she was done changing. She was studying him closely. He followed the line of her eyes to - his ankles?
Looking down quickly, he saw she was quietly examining the healing burns on his legs. He looked up and read confirmation in her eyes. She knew what would leave those burns, disturb his sleep, cause his muscles to tighten involuntarily. And she probably guessed who had done it.
Sighing, Jack volunteered tersely, "Geiger found out I was a double agent. If it hadn't been for Sydney, I'd be dead."
Irina waited for more, but Jack did not elaborate. "How are you doing, Jack?" she asked with compassion. It had been 20 years ago, but she hadn't forgotten what electroshock torture was like. The excruciating pain. The feeling of helplessness. The lack of visible damage, making you wonder afterwards if you had lost your mind and just imagined the whole thing. A surge of fury ran through her, aimed at Geiger and whoever had helped him do this to her husband.
"Fine," he replied, not looking at her. He had handled a lot of things on his own these past 20 years. He'd handle this one, too.
"If you don't mind," Jack continued, reaching over to switch off the light, "I could use some rest."
They didn't get into their hotel room until 9pm. There had been a long line of passengers bumped off of flights - Jack was just glad that they had gotten a room at all. When the desk clerk had apologetically told him that no king beds were available, just doubles, Jack had been quietly relieved. He was bone-tired, and had not been looking forward to sleeping on the floor.
Irina commented, her gaze sweeping the room, "A real bed. A real shower. The little things in life." She grinned over her shoulder at Jack, then headed straight for the shower. Jack sat down by the phone and started making calls. To Langley, so that they would not expect them tonight. To housekeeping, to get Irina some toiletries. To room service, to get some dinner sent up.
Thirty minutes later, Irina came out of the shower bundled in a fluffy white robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. She looked, thought Jack, incredibly desirable. But he had himself well under control. There was no way he would get sucked into that vortex again, giving her another hold over him. They ate dinner in companionable silence. Once or twice Jack looked up and caught Irina looking at him, pensively.
Irina often did her best thinking in the shower. Tonight had been no exception. She was pretty confident she had figured out what was going on with Jack, and knew that she'd find out for sure soon.
With dinner cleared, Jack started to empty his carryon. As he did, it occurred to him that Irina had nothing to unpack. Turning to her, he said as casually as he could, "What are you planning to wear to bed?"
Irina grinned at him. "Nothing," she leered.
Jack stripped off his shirt and tossed it to her. "Here," he said shortly. Irina pretended to pout, but then moved to drop her robe and put the shirt on. Jack quickly turned his back towards her. No sense pushing his luck. He stripped down to his boxers and turned back, relieved to find that she was done changing. She was studying him closely. He followed the line of her eyes to - his ankles?
Looking down quickly, he saw she was quietly examining the healing burns on his legs. He looked up and read confirmation in her eyes. She knew what would leave those burns, disturb his sleep, cause his muscles to tighten involuntarily. And she probably guessed who had done it.
Sighing, Jack volunteered tersely, "Geiger found out I was a double agent. If it hadn't been for Sydney, I'd be dead."
Irina waited for more, but Jack did not elaborate. "How are you doing, Jack?" she asked with compassion. It had been 20 years ago, but she hadn't forgotten what electroshock torture was like. The excruciating pain. The feeling of helplessness. The lack of visible damage, making you wonder afterwards if you had lost your mind and just imagined the whole thing. A surge of fury ran through her, aimed at Geiger and whoever had helped him do this to her husband.
"Fine," he replied, not looking at her. He had handled a lot of things on his own these past 20 years. He'd handle this one, too.
"If you don't mind," Jack continued, reaching over to switch off the light, "I could use some rest."