(21 months post-The Telling)
Jack lay back on the table, oblivious to everything around him. Working on a particularly complicated objective, one that he could not have hoped to achieve before. Connected to Il Dire, racing through options and strategies so fast that he could not tell where he stopped and Il Dire began. They were one.
Here, on this table, he had free will. Multiple futures beckoned alluringly to him. Each tried to seduce him into being chosen. He could choose. He had control. On this table he wasn't trapped in an appalling present and a truncated future. An intoxicating rush of euphoria surged through him.
"You always did your best work lying down."
Jack's eyes flew open. What the - ? He was conscious of the futures vaporizing like mist, as he tried to determine the source of the interruption. A sound almost like a whimper escaped as he sluggishly pulled himself back to the present and looked around.
"Irina?" he croaked, recognizing the form on the other side of the room. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same thing," she said grimly, her narrowed eyes taking in the tubes and wiring leading from Jack to the control station and back through the wall. "Why the hell haven't you been sending me updates on Sydney?"
"I've been too busy to visit her," he said with impatience. "There's been no change. You need to leave. Now," he added urgently. "Someone could come through that door any minute."
"I'll be happy to leave, Jack," she said, finding herself a chair and pulling it up. "As soon as you've told me what you're doing." She casually leant back in the chair and studied her nails, a woman with all the time in the world.
"You wouldn't understand," he snapped, then immediately regretted it. When would he learn?
"Oh, really?" she drawled. "Too complicated for my little brain to comprehend? Why don't you put it into itsy-bitsy words for me?"
Jack seethed inwardly; his chances of forcibly evicting her without alerting Sloane's men were non-existent. Angrily he yanked off the wires and tubes connecting him to Il Dire, swung his legs over the side of the table, and began to advance on Irina. His attempt at intimidation was foiled, however, as he stumbled and almost fell to his knees on his second step.
"Jack!" said Irina, moving forward swiftly to support him. "Are you okay?" she asked apprehensively. He noticed idly that the taunting voice was gone.
Jack's head swam as he weakly shook his head. "A little dizzy, that's all."
Irina gently pushed him back down on the table, and pushed his head between his legs. "Take a couple of deep breaths," she commanded. She scrutinized him closely. He had lost weight, and dark circles were visible under his eyes.
Feeling like a fool, Jack did as he was told. Slowly the room came back into focus. "Better," he said at last. "Please go," he pleaded, looking up. "Sloane will have you killed if he finds you here."
"I'll leave. Once you've told me what you're doing," Irina said uncompromisingly.
Jack growled with exasperation. "Rambaldi," he said shortly.
"No kidding," said Irina scathingly. "Do you think you could be a little more specific?"
"What do you know about 'Il Dire'?"
"Il Dire?" replied Irina, eyes narrowed. "But that's impos-." She stopped in mid-sentence and strode over to the door in the connecting wall, yanking it open and looking inside. "Oh, my God," she breathed, recognizing much of the equipment inside. "Sloane did it." She turned back to Jack. "You're using Il Dire?" she demanded.
Jack nodded, and then said with an intensity that Irina found disquieting, "I'm seeing the future, Irina."
Irina stared at him, incredulous. Had she heard it from anyone but Jack, she would not have believed it. But, as she searched his face, too many things began to fall in place. Sloane's anticipation of her double-cross with the Rambaldi artifacts. Jack's insistence that she not take Sydney with her. Her "luck" at escaping Sloane's assassination attempts. The ease with which Sloane and Jack were now able to accomplish almost anything they attempted.
"You're able to see the future?" she repeated numbly.
Jack nodded and added, unable to keep the pride out of his voice, "Not just see it. Choose it."
Irina was appalled. "And you've been doing that for *Sloane*?" she gasped. "Are you insane?"
Anger and hurt flared in Jack's eyes. "If it wasn't me it would be someone else. But this way Sydney will survive. I guess it was too much to hope you'd understand," he sniped. "Maternal instincts were never your long suit."
Perhaps it was the disorienting weakness he still suffered. But Jack never saw Irina's hand until it connected with his face in a resounding slap, almost knocking him off the table.
"Dammit, Jack, I thought you were stronger than this. You've given up. It's too damn hard and you've. given. up."
"I. have. not." Jack said through gritted teeth, barely maintaining his control. "Don't you understand? With Il Dire I can plan strategies I never would have imagined before. I can trigger the collapse of Sloane's entire empire once Sydney is recovered."
"But who knows when that will be? Think of the power you're giving Sloane in the meantime!" said Irina angrily.
"It's not Sloane that has the power!" Jack shouted, furious. "It's me! I choose!"
Irina stared at him, open-mouthed. "What did you say?" she asked in a stunned whisper.
"I. Choose. Don't you understand? So many possible futures could occur, but only one actually will. I decide. No more unforeseen events. No more...mistakes," Jack finished with vehemence, oblivious to Irina's growing apprehension.
"You're not God, Jack. People have free will to make their own choices."
"That's only what they think," said Jack patronizingly. "People are predictable. If you put a person in a situation, he'll always react the same way. It's controlling the situation that counts."
"Jack! Listen to me. The future's not just one big game," said Irina intensely.
"Whatever you say, Irina," mumbled Jack, slowly beginning to hook himself back up to Il Dire. "You keep your future, I'll keep mine." He looked up, as though surprised to still see her there. "I think you'd better leave now."
What the hell? Irina scrutinized him for a moment, thinking. Watching the expression in his eyes as he hooked himself back up. Almost a feeling of relief. "Oh, sh*t," she muttered to herself, as realization dawned.
"Jack," she said, reaching out for his hand to stop him. Jack shook her off irritably.
"Jack!" she said, more urgently. He looked up impatiently. "How many hours a day are you using Il Dire?"
"I don't know, 10-12, why?" came the edgy reply.
"Did you read all of Rambaldi's manuscripts about Il Dire?" At Jack's curt nod, she pressed, "The medical analysis?"
"There was no medical analysis."
"There *is* a medical analysis," Irina stated flatly. Damn Sloane. "Rambaldi tested subjects on Il Dire. More than 6 hours a day of use resulted in overstimulation of the brain's limbic area. Leakage of the electrical impulses - he couldn't control it."
Jack shrugged. "So?"
"Do you know what else overstimulates the limbic area? Heroin. Cocaine..."
"What are you saying, Irina?" hissed Jack angrily. "That I'm *hooked* on a machine?"
"You tell me, Jack. How do you feel when you're not using Il Dire? Depressed? Tired? Feel like you can't control what's going on?"
"Of course I do, dammit. It's not exactly the ideal working environment."
Irina nodded brusquely. "And why haven't you been visiting Sydney?"
"I told you. I've been too busy."
"The last time you visited her, how did you feel?"
"I had the flu," he said dismissively.
"Sweating, nausea, tremors?"
Jack nodded slowly.
"Classic withdrawal symptoms," observed Irina flatly. "You've been suckered, Jack. Sloane offered you a chance at omnipotence and you couldn't resist, could you? How many times did you say 'just one more hour'?"
Jack stared at her, appalled. "You're insane. Not even Arvin - ,"
"Not. even. Arvin?" Irina repeated incredulously. "The man who recruited your daughter to SD-6? Who set you up with Geiger? Can't you see that he did this intentionally, as his backup plan if Sydney recovered?" She took a step closer. "If Sydney recovered today, Jack, you wouldn't be able to leave, would you?"
Jack looked at her, alarmed. "No, it's not like that, I can stop any time I want to."
"Oh, really?" she drawled. "Then I guess you won't mind if I do this." Irina pulled her gun and aimed it at the control panel for Il Dire.
"Irina, no!" shouted Jack lunging for the pistol. In his weakened state, Irina had little difficulty keeping it away from him. "Irina, please don't," he pleaded. "Sydney -." He collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
"Enough rationalization, Jack," she said softly. "You're falling to pieces and you can't even see it."
Irina aimed carefully at the panel and fired two shots, shattering the controls. The damage would only be temporary, she knew, but hopefully it would buy Jack the time he needed.
She gazed at the slumped form of her husband on the floor with regret. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She turned on her heel and left.
Jack lay back on the table, oblivious to everything around him. Working on a particularly complicated objective, one that he could not have hoped to achieve before. Connected to Il Dire, racing through options and strategies so fast that he could not tell where he stopped and Il Dire began. They were one.
Here, on this table, he had free will. Multiple futures beckoned alluringly to him. Each tried to seduce him into being chosen. He could choose. He had control. On this table he wasn't trapped in an appalling present and a truncated future. An intoxicating rush of euphoria surged through him.
"You always did your best work lying down."
Jack's eyes flew open. What the - ? He was conscious of the futures vaporizing like mist, as he tried to determine the source of the interruption. A sound almost like a whimper escaped as he sluggishly pulled himself back to the present and looked around.
"Irina?" he croaked, recognizing the form on the other side of the room. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same thing," she said grimly, her narrowed eyes taking in the tubes and wiring leading from Jack to the control station and back through the wall. "Why the hell haven't you been sending me updates on Sydney?"
"I've been too busy to visit her," he said with impatience. "There's been no change. You need to leave. Now," he added urgently. "Someone could come through that door any minute."
"I'll be happy to leave, Jack," she said, finding herself a chair and pulling it up. "As soon as you've told me what you're doing." She casually leant back in the chair and studied her nails, a woman with all the time in the world.
"You wouldn't understand," he snapped, then immediately regretted it. When would he learn?
"Oh, really?" she drawled. "Too complicated for my little brain to comprehend? Why don't you put it into itsy-bitsy words for me?"
Jack seethed inwardly; his chances of forcibly evicting her without alerting Sloane's men were non-existent. Angrily he yanked off the wires and tubes connecting him to Il Dire, swung his legs over the side of the table, and began to advance on Irina. His attempt at intimidation was foiled, however, as he stumbled and almost fell to his knees on his second step.
"Jack!" said Irina, moving forward swiftly to support him. "Are you okay?" she asked apprehensively. He noticed idly that the taunting voice was gone.
Jack's head swam as he weakly shook his head. "A little dizzy, that's all."
Irina gently pushed him back down on the table, and pushed his head between his legs. "Take a couple of deep breaths," she commanded. She scrutinized him closely. He had lost weight, and dark circles were visible under his eyes.
Feeling like a fool, Jack did as he was told. Slowly the room came back into focus. "Better," he said at last. "Please go," he pleaded, looking up. "Sloane will have you killed if he finds you here."
"I'll leave. Once you've told me what you're doing," Irina said uncompromisingly.
Jack growled with exasperation. "Rambaldi," he said shortly.
"No kidding," said Irina scathingly. "Do you think you could be a little more specific?"
"What do you know about 'Il Dire'?"
"Il Dire?" replied Irina, eyes narrowed. "But that's impos-." She stopped in mid-sentence and strode over to the door in the connecting wall, yanking it open and looking inside. "Oh, my God," she breathed, recognizing much of the equipment inside. "Sloane did it." She turned back to Jack. "You're using Il Dire?" she demanded.
Jack nodded, and then said with an intensity that Irina found disquieting, "I'm seeing the future, Irina."
Irina stared at him, incredulous. Had she heard it from anyone but Jack, she would not have believed it. But, as she searched his face, too many things began to fall in place. Sloane's anticipation of her double-cross with the Rambaldi artifacts. Jack's insistence that she not take Sydney with her. Her "luck" at escaping Sloane's assassination attempts. The ease with which Sloane and Jack were now able to accomplish almost anything they attempted.
"You're able to see the future?" she repeated numbly.
Jack nodded and added, unable to keep the pride out of his voice, "Not just see it. Choose it."
Irina was appalled. "And you've been doing that for *Sloane*?" she gasped. "Are you insane?"
Anger and hurt flared in Jack's eyes. "If it wasn't me it would be someone else. But this way Sydney will survive. I guess it was too much to hope you'd understand," he sniped. "Maternal instincts were never your long suit."
Perhaps it was the disorienting weakness he still suffered. But Jack never saw Irina's hand until it connected with his face in a resounding slap, almost knocking him off the table.
"Dammit, Jack, I thought you were stronger than this. You've given up. It's too damn hard and you've. given. up."
"I. have. not." Jack said through gritted teeth, barely maintaining his control. "Don't you understand? With Il Dire I can plan strategies I never would have imagined before. I can trigger the collapse of Sloane's entire empire once Sydney is recovered."
"But who knows when that will be? Think of the power you're giving Sloane in the meantime!" said Irina angrily.
"It's not Sloane that has the power!" Jack shouted, furious. "It's me! I choose!"
Irina stared at him, open-mouthed. "What did you say?" she asked in a stunned whisper.
"I. Choose. Don't you understand? So many possible futures could occur, but only one actually will. I decide. No more unforeseen events. No more...mistakes," Jack finished with vehemence, oblivious to Irina's growing apprehension.
"You're not God, Jack. People have free will to make their own choices."
"That's only what they think," said Jack patronizingly. "People are predictable. If you put a person in a situation, he'll always react the same way. It's controlling the situation that counts."
"Jack! Listen to me. The future's not just one big game," said Irina intensely.
"Whatever you say, Irina," mumbled Jack, slowly beginning to hook himself back up to Il Dire. "You keep your future, I'll keep mine." He looked up, as though surprised to still see her there. "I think you'd better leave now."
What the hell? Irina scrutinized him for a moment, thinking. Watching the expression in his eyes as he hooked himself back up. Almost a feeling of relief. "Oh, sh*t," she muttered to herself, as realization dawned.
"Jack," she said, reaching out for his hand to stop him. Jack shook her off irritably.
"Jack!" she said, more urgently. He looked up impatiently. "How many hours a day are you using Il Dire?"
"I don't know, 10-12, why?" came the edgy reply.
"Did you read all of Rambaldi's manuscripts about Il Dire?" At Jack's curt nod, she pressed, "The medical analysis?"
"There was no medical analysis."
"There *is* a medical analysis," Irina stated flatly. Damn Sloane. "Rambaldi tested subjects on Il Dire. More than 6 hours a day of use resulted in overstimulation of the brain's limbic area. Leakage of the electrical impulses - he couldn't control it."
Jack shrugged. "So?"
"Do you know what else overstimulates the limbic area? Heroin. Cocaine..."
"What are you saying, Irina?" hissed Jack angrily. "That I'm *hooked* on a machine?"
"You tell me, Jack. How do you feel when you're not using Il Dire? Depressed? Tired? Feel like you can't control what's going on?"
"Of course I do, dammit. It's not exactly the ideal working environment."
Irina nodded brusquely. "And why haven't you been visiting Sydney?"
"I told you. I've been too busy."
"The last time you visited her, how did you feel?"
"I had the flu," he said dismissively.
"Sweating, nausea, tremors?"
Jack nodded slowly.
"Classic withdrawal symptoms," observed Irina flatly. "You've been suckered, Jack. Sloane offered you a chance at omnipotence and you couldn't resist, could you? How many times did you say 'just one more hour'?"
Jack stared at her, appalled. "You're insane. Not even Arvin - ,"
"Not. even. Arvin?" Irina repeated incredulously. "The man who recruited your daughter to SD-6? Who set you up with Geiger? Can't you see that he did this intentionally, as his backup plan if Sydney recovered?" She took a step closer. "If Sydney recovered today, Jack, you wouldn't be able to leave, would you?"
Jack looked at her, alarmed. "No, it's not like that, I can stop any time I want to."
"Oh, really?" she drawled. "Then I guess you won't mind if I do this." Irina pulled her gun and aimed it at the control panel for Il Dire.
"Irina, no!" shouted Jack lunging for the pistol. In his weakened state, Irina had little difficulty keeping it away from him. "Irina, please don't," he pleaded. "Sydney -." He collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
"Enough rationalization, Jack," she said softly. "You're falling to pieces and you can't even see it."
Irina aimed carefully at the panel and fired two shots, shattering the controls. The damage would only be temporary, she knew, but hopefully it would buy Jack the time he needed.
She gazed at the slumped form of her husband on the floor with regret. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She turned on her heel and left.