Irina sat impatiently, hands cuffed behind her back. Jack had been right, she thought with disgust. He had predicted that Arvin would double-cross her and leave her behind. It had been hours, and she had heard nothing. Where was he?

She greeted the sound of shots being fired in the corridor with relief. When Jack finally strode into the room, she wanted to leap up and hug him. Except that she couldn't, of course. "Do you have the keys?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said coldly, efficiently unlocking the cuffs.

Irina massaged her wrists and looked up at him, eager with anticipation. Jack, she saw to her puzzlement, was standing back, watching her with hooded eyes. "Jack, is something wrong? What happened? Is it finished?"

"Yes," he said bitterly, "I think it is."

"Did you get Sloane?"

"Yes. He's on his way to prison. With almost an army's worth surrounding him to make sure he ends up there."

"'La Scintilla'?" she asked anxiously.

"Safe. You were right. He did try to pass something else off as 'La Scintilla' first."

"Safe? Where...is it?" asked Irina apprehensively.

"I have it," Jack replied, watching Irina carefully.

"Where?" asked Irina quickly, seeing he wasn't carrying anything. She swallowed. "Jack. I need you to give it to me. Please," she finished pleadingly.

Jack felt sick. "Fine," he said flatly. "I'll meet you at the villa. In two hours." He turned on his heel and left as she watched, a bewildered expression on her face.

**

Irina paced back and forth in the large common room of the villa. Two sofas and a large coffee table graced the area in front of the fireplace. Several woven rugs were scattered across the tile floor. She had acquired the property several years ago, partly in anticipation of this final move, partly because she loved the view across the olive grove. She glanced at her watch. It had been 2-1/2 hours. Where was Jack?

Jack stared despondently out the windshield of his car, parked outside the villa. He had been sitting there for 30 minutes, delaying the inevitable. He would rather, he acknowledged to himself, be walking headlong into a firefight than into this villa. He glanced over at the leather case in the front passenger seat with revulsion. Ruthlessly he suppressed the impulse to 'lose' it. She had given him Sloane; he would give her 'La Scintilla'. Immortality. What, after all, did he have to offer her as an alternative? With a heavy heart, he opened the door and headed inside.

Irina turned and saw him standing silently in the doorway, leather case in his hand, face impassive. "Jack," she said, moving towards him, arms outstretched.

He took a step back and held out the case. "Here. This belongs to you," he snapped.

"Jack?" asked Irina, confused. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Take it," he commanded. Please don't, he silently begged.

Giving him a curious glance, Irina reached out and took the leather case and set it gently on the table. Carefully she lifted the cover, and gazed inside, spellbound. This, then, was what she had searched for for so many years. She looked over at Jack, encouraging him to join her in appreciation of the precision of the device, the delicate dials and knobs.

The stark pain in Jack's eyes, as they rested on La Scintilla, brought her up short. What in the world? And then, in a flash, she understood. Good God, he had believed she was going to use it on herself. And instead of hurling it off a tall building, he had brought it to her. For her to make her own decision. Spending the rest of their lives together or - immortality.

"Jack," she breathed, willing him to look at her. With effort, he wrenched his gaze away from the case to look at Irina, his eyes once more blank. His jaw tightened as he braced himself to hear her explanation, her rationalization, for leaving him this final time.

"Jack, when I first received Rambaldi's letter, I thought it was a sign. My life had been destroyed, and I was being offered a quest, a higher purpose. I was the chosen one. I would live forever. I would change the world."

"Irina, don't," Jack ground out, taking another step back. He could bear anything but this, this pathetic fabric of self-delusion and excuses. He turned to go, to run, to bury himself away from ever feeling this way again. From ever feeling anything again.

"Jack, you don't understand." She reached out and took his hand in hers, refusing to let go as he impatiently jerked to free himself. "I dedicated my life to this quest, and it still couldn't fill the hole that you and Sydney left. What I've learned over the past 15 years is that this is my heritage. It is not my destiny. Why would I choose an eternity of regret? 20 years," her voice caught in her throat, "has been more than enough."

In one motion, Irina drew her gun. Jack stood nerveless, unable to react. She aimed and fired, emptying her gun. Into 'La Scintilla'. Not satisfied, she used her gun butt and smashed the device beyond recognition as Jack groped to understand her words.

"Irina?" Jack tried to comprehend her words, what she had just done. "Irina, why-," he gestured awkwardly at the case, confused.

"So that you'll never wake up wondering if I'm going to leave you. It's over, Jack."

Jack stood stunned, as Irina stepped back and watched him expectantly. Patiently. And then in 2 strides Jack crossed the room to where she stood and crushed her in his arms, joyfully bringing his lips down to hers.