Chapter 8
Jack awoke to the sound of the shower, and stretched lazily. He felt more rested than he had in days. The nightmares had not bothered him as much last night, and he had dreamt of Laura for the first time in months. He smiled to himself. The dream had been incredibly vivid.
Slowly, his smile faded. He became aware that he was no longer wearing boxers, and that he was sore in places he shouldn't be. Desperately, he tried to piece together the fragments of his dream, even as they slipped away. What the hell had happened last night?
Irina came out of the shower wrapped back up in her robe. She had a carefully neutral look on her face, and her eyes gave away nothing. Even her shower had given her no great insight into how to handle this morning. The urgency of Jack's need last night, both spiritual and physical, had caused them both to let their guards down - too far, too fast, she suspected. She knew that there was a good chance that Jack would remember little of what had happened. Despondently, she had come to the conclusion that that would be the best outcome. She had decided to say as little as possible.
Jack ran his hand through his hair. How was he going to start this conversation? "Irina, I-,"
"Good morning, Jack. You look like you slept well," Irina interrupted. "The shower's ready," she continued in a business-like tone. Her face gave away none of the inner turmoil she felt.
"Irina-,"
"Do you want to order up breakfast?" she inquired, hoping to sidetrack him.
"Dammit, Irina!" said Jack in frustration. He glared at her. He knew he was at a disadvantage, and it aggravated him that he had to beg her for the information. "What happened last night?"
Irina sighed resignedly, and moved to sit on his bed. Another time in their lives, and this situation would have been the source of endless ribbing. Now, it needed to be handled like a sensitive explosive. "Jack, you were having flashbacks last night. I've been there, I know how traumatic those can be - like being tortured all over again." Irina paused, trying to find the right words. "Last night you needed a friend. I did the best I could," she said simply.
Jack examined her closely. He was sure she was holding back, but sensed no malice. Whatever happened, he thought bleakly, she probably regretted it. He must have made a real fool of himself. Rapidly losing his enthusiasm for the details, he stood up and headed for the shower.
"Jack, I-," Irina started, trying to recover the fragile link that they had forged during the night. She paused as she saw the look on his face. "Never mind," she said quietly. He probably regretted it, she thought bleakly. She turned away so that he could not see the desolation in her face.
Jack awoke to the sound of the shower, and stretched lazily. He felt more rested than he had in days. The nightmares had not bothered him as much last night, and he had dreamt of Laura for the first time in months. He smiled to himself. The dream had been incredibly vivid.
Slowly, his smile faded. He became aware that he was no longer wearing boxers, and that he was sore in places he shouldn't be. Desperately, he tried to piece together the fragments of his dream, even as they slipped away. What the hell had happened last night?
Irina came out of the shower wrapped back up in her robe. She had a carefully neutral look on her face, and her eyes gave away nothing. Even her shower had given her no great insight into how to handle this morning. The urgency of Jack's need last night, both spiritual and physical, had caused them both to let their guards down - too far, too fast, she suspected. She knew that there was a good chance that Jack would remember little of what had happened. Despondently, she had come to the conclusion that that would be the best outcome. She had decided to say as little as possible.
Jack ran his hand through his hair. How was he going to start this conversation? "Irina, I-,"
"Good morning, Jack. You look like you slept well," Irina interrupted. "The shower's ready," she continued in a business-like tone. Her face gave away none of the inner turmoil she felt.
"Irina-,"
"Do you want to order up breakfast?" she inquired, hoping to sidetrack him.
"Dammit, Irina!" said Jack in frustration. He glared at her. He knew he was at a disadvantage, and it aggravated him that he had to beg her for the information. "What happened last night?"
Irina sighed resignedly, and moved to sit on his bed. Another time in their lives, and this situation would have been the source of endless ribbing. Now, it needed to be handled like a sensitive explosive. "Jack, you were having flashbacks last night. I've been there, I know how traumatic those can be - like being tortured all over again." Irina paused, trying to find the right words. "Last night you needed a friend. I did the best I could," she said simply.
Jack examined her closely. He was sure she was holding back, but sensed no malice. Whatever happened, he thought bleakly, she probably regretted it. He must have made a real fool of himself. Rapidly losing his enthusiasm for the details, he stood up and headed for the shower.
"Jack, I-," Irina started, trying to recover the fragile link that they had forged during the night. She paused as she saw the look on his face. "Never mind," she said quietly. He probably regretted it, she thought bleakly. She turned away so that he could not see the desolation in her face.