Jack, stunned, watched her stalk across the room. There could be no
doubting the reality of Irina's anger, but it didn't make sense. Any of
it. "Irina!" he called after her retreating form.
"Stay away from me," she snarled, not turning around, then cursed him in Russian. With professional detachment, Jack admired her creativity.
He paused for a moment, considering, watching her pace like a caged tiger. Her temper, on the rare occasions when she had been provoked, had always been fearsome. And sometimes expensive, he recalled, remembering several vases, a window, and a television set which had suffered at her hands. But he also remembered that at those times she had been at her most vulnerable, her thoughts and feelings closest to the surface. If he were ever to learn the truth, it would be now. And he had to learn the truth.
Making his decision, he cautiously crossed to the other side of the room until he was standing behind her. He could see her tense. He readied himself. "Irina," he tried again, reaching out for her arm to turn her towards him. As he expected, Irina grabbed his hand and attempted to flip him over her shoulder. Jack threw his weight back, throwing her off- balance, and spun her so that she faced him while he grabbed both wrists. He recoiled as he saw the blazing anger in her eyes, but steeled himself to continue.
"OK, Irina. Now I'm wondering," Jack challenged. "Why did you leave Sydney with me?"
Irina glared at Jack. She couldn't believe that he couldn't figure it out for himself. How could he deny to himself everything that they had been together for 10 years? She tried to jerk away, but his grip was like iron. As her silence continued, Jack could feel his frustration building and he shook her. "Answer me, dammit!"
Irina hissed back at him, finally goaded to respond. "Because I loved you, you fool! Because I wanted to leave you someone to love when I was gone!" As Jack's grip slackened in shock, Irina shook free of his hold and she turned away, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Jack went very still. "But. you left," he said quietly, reaching out and gently turning her back towards him. "How could you have loved me, and left me?" he finished sadly. He reached out with one hand to smooth away the tears on her cheeks.
"I could not have loved you and stayed," whispered Irina. "The life we lead doesn't always give us easy choices, Jack. They would have killed you." She buried her face in his shoulder. He heard her muffled voice continue, "I chose to save your life that day. I would choose it again."
Jack was speechless. 10 years of his life living one lie, and now, he realized, 20 years of his life living another. Truth in an abandoned building in a nameless city in a foreign country. Irina in his arms. He looked down at the woman he embraced, the woman who had made and destroyed everything that he was.
"Irina, I-," and he stopped, as words seemed so hopelessly inadequate. He reached down and cupped her chin in his hand, and tenderly brushed her lips. "I have always loved you," he finished, his voice rough with emotion. And he knew in an instant that the words, once spoken, could not be recalled. That he stood before her, absolutely vulnerable. That he had just trusted this woman, whom he had sworn to never trust again, with his innermost secret.
Irina looked into Jack's eyes, her cheeks streaked with tears. She saw his turmoil, his love, his vulnerability, and quailed at taking responsibility for this man's soul again. Her path, her future, lay in shadows. She did not know which choices she would be faced with, what compromises she would need to make on her journey. Would she need to betray him once more? Would he, too, be sucked into the maelstrom of her life? She reached a hand up to his cheek, and said gently, "Whatever happens, Jack, know that I will always love you, too."
Reaching her hand around to the back of his neck, she pulled his lips back down to hers, their kiss no longer tender but insistent, urgent. Raw, intoxicating need surged through Jack, threatening to overwhelm him. Irina's eyes, dark with desire, reflected back at him. Pulling his lips away from hers, he swept her up in his arms, crossed the room and, going down on his knees, gently deposited her on the mattress.
Their lovemaking had been many things over the years - passionate, playful, rough, tender - but never before had their hunger so engulfed them as it did that night. As if 20 years of passion could be distilled into each touch, each caress. As if, thought Irina sadly, it might be a long time before they could hold each other again. Jack had finally fallen into a deep slumber, trying to catch several hours of rest before they moved out again. Irina sat watching him, trying to memorize every feature. She reached out to stroke his cheek, and he smiled in his sleep.
"Stay away from me," she snarled, not turning around, then cursed him in Russian. With professional detachment, Jack admired her creativity.
He paused for a moment, considering, watching her pace like a caged tiger. Her temper, on the rare occasions when she had been provoked, had always been fearsome. And sometimes expensive, he recalled, remembering several vases, a window, and a television set which had suffered at her hands. But he also remembered that at those times she had been at her most vulnerable, her thoughts and feelings closest to the surface. If he were ever to learn the truth, it would be now. And he had to learn the truth.
Making his decision, he cautiously crossed to the other side of the room until he was standing behind her. He could see her tense. He readied himself. "Irina," he tried again, reaching out for her arm to turn her towards him. As he expected, Irina grabbed his hand and attempted to flip him over her shoulder. Jack threw his weight back, throwing her off- balance, and spun her so that she faced him while he grabbed both wrists. He recoiled as he saw the blazing anger in her eyes, but steeled himself to continue.
"OK, Irina. Now I'm wondering," Jack challenged. "Why did you leave Sydney with me?"
Irina glared at Jack. She couldn't believe that he couldn't figure it out for himself. How could he deny to himself everything that they had been together for 10 years? She tried to jerk away, but his grip was like iron. As her silence continued, Jack could feel his frustration building and he shook her. "Answer me, dammit!"
Irina hissed back at him, finally goaded to respond. "Because I loved you, you fool! Because I wanted to leave you someone to love when I was gone!" As Jack's grip slackened in shock, Irina shook free of his hold and she turned away, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Jack went very still. "But. you left," he said quietly, reaching out and gently turning her back towards him. "How could you have loved me, and left me?" he finished sadly. He reached out with one hand to smooth away the tears on her cheeks.
"I could not have loved you and stayed," whispered Irina. "The life we lead doesn't always give us easy choices, Jack. They would have killed you." She buried her face in his shoulder. He heard her muffled voice continue, "I chose to save your life that day. I would choose it again."
Jack was speechless. 10 years of his life living one lie, and now, he realized, 20 years of his life living another. Truth in an abandoned building in a nameless city in a foreign country. Irina in his arms. He looked down at the woman he embraced, the woman who had made and destroyed everything that he was.
"Irina, I-," and he stopped, as words seemed so hopelessly inadequate. He reached down and cupped her chin in his hand, and tenderly brushed her lips. "I have always loved you," he finished, his voice rough with emotion. And he knew in an instant that the words, once spoken, could not be recalled. That he stood before her, absolutely vulnerable. That he had just trusted this woman, whom he had sworn to never trust again, with his innermost secret.
Irina looked into Jack's eyes, her cheeks streaked with tears. She saw his turmoil, his love, his vulnerability, and quailed at taking responsibility for this man's soul again. Her path, her future, lay in shadows. She did not know which choices she would be faced with, what compromises she would need to make on her journey. Would she need to betray him once more? Would he, too, be sucked into the maelstrom of her life? She reached a hand up to his cheek, and said gently, "Whatever happens, Jack, know that I will always love you, too."
Reaching her hand around to the back of his neck, she pulled his lips back down to hers, their kiss no longer tender but insistent, urgent. Raw, intoxicating need surged through Jack, threatening to overwhelm him. Irina's eyes, dark with desire, reflected back at him. Pulling his lips away from hers, he swept her up in his arms, crossed the room and, going down on his knees, gently deposited her on the mattress.
Their lovemaking had been many things over the years - passionate, playful, rough, tender - but never before had their hunger so engulfed them as it did that night. As if 20 years of passion could be distilled into each touch, each caress. As if, thought Irina sadly, it might be a long time before they could hold each other again. Jack had finally fallen into a deep slumber, trying to catch several hours of rest before they moved out again. Irina sat watching him, trying to memorize every feature. She reached out to stroke his cheek, and he smiled in his sleep.
