(24 months post-The Telling)
It was 2am in the morning, and Jack lay on his bed in yet another anonymous hotel room, wide awake. Only two more months to go. He could make it two more months. Four more visits to Hong Kong, to visit his unresponsive daughter. Three more missions. Two more months of covering Sloane's back. Everything was in place; the butterflies had been released. He just wished it were over. He closed his eyes. He needed sleep, but it would not come.
A faint breeze floated across the room, and Jack sensed, rather than saw, another presence. Casually he opened his eyes. He knew he had nothing to fear now.
"Jack?" came the familiar voice, softly.
Jack rolled over on his side, watching Irina enter from the balcony, 10 stories above the ground. His heart leapt, but his only response was, "Are you crazy? What are you doing?"
"Checking on you," came the quiet reply. A flashlight flicked on in Jack's face and he stifled a curse as the beam momentarily blinded him. "You're looking better." The flashlight flicked off.
"Thanks, mom."
Irina smiled and settled down on the bed, carefully placing a package on the floor.
"You know, the last couple of times you've visited me you've kicked my ass," said Jack warily. "I should call the police."
"The last couple of times you remember," she corrected lightly, smoothing back the hair from his face.
"Mmm. I wondered." Jack's hand reached out to hers in the dark and gave it a grateful squeeze. "OK, then. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"I brought you a snack."
Jack sniffed and groaned. "Chinese food?"
"Chicken lo mein. Your favorite. I thought," Irina turned troubled eyes on Jack, "I thought you might be getting tired of Peking duck."
Jack was silent.
"How is she, Jack?"
"The same," he said shortly. "No significant progress. Unconscious. No damage. Could wake up anytime, or not at all."
"She's been like that for?"
"A year."
Irina was silent for a moment, struggling. "Jack. It might be time for you to leave."
Jack jerked up in bed. "No," he said forcefully.
"Jack...," Irina swallowed, "she might never wake up. She could be like this for the rest of her life. What you're doing might be in vain." She laid her hand on his arm. "Sydney wouldn't want this," she finished gently.
"She'll wake up," Jack said with conviction.
"You can't know that," admonished Irina.
"You forget, Irina," said Jack quietly, "I can."
Irina's body stilled. "Il Dire?" she asked in a strangled voice. Hope and fear warred within her. Hope that Jack was right. Fear that he had gone mad under the strain.
"Yes," came the brief reply.
"Soon?"
"Yes."
"And then you'll leave?"
Jack paused. "Yes, Irina. And then I'll leave." His fingers played idly with the sheet.
"Where...will you go?"
"I haven't given it much thought." Not much point, he thought bleakly.
Irina took a deep breath. "You...could come with me."
After a long pause, Jack said slowly, "I'd like that." The truth. Just not the whole truth. Grateful for the darkness, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Was this how it had been for her, 20 years ago? Would she understand, looking back? Reaching up he tenderly traced the curve of her jaw. "Irina - would you stay with me tonight?"
Irina chuckled softly. "Surely you know the answer already?" and let him take her into his arms.
And silently, to himself, Jack amended his countdown. Four more trips to Hong Kong. 3 more missions. Two more months of covering Sloane's back. And one goodbye.
**
Irina lay awake, listening to Jack's even breathing after he had dropped off to sleep. Trying to reconcile the information he had given her with the love they had just made. With the infinite tenderness of his kisses, as if each would be his last. With the lingering of his caresses, as if he had been trying to memorize her body in the dark. With the suspicious dampness in his eyes, which had glittered in the moonlight when he had held her close after their release. And she worried - about what he hadn't told her.
If Sydney wasn't better in 3 months, she was coming in after both of them.
It was 2am in the morning, and Jack lay on his bed in yet another anonymous hotel room, wide awake. Only two more months to go. He could make it two more months. Four more visits to Hong Kong, to visit his unresponsive daughter. Three more missions. Two more months of covering Sloane's back. Everything was in place; the butterflies had been released. He just wished it were over. He closed his eyes. He needed sleep, but it would not come.
A faint breeze floated across the room, and Jack sensed, rather than saw, another presence. Casually he opened his eyes. He knew he had nothing to fear now.
"Jack?" came the familiar voice, softly.
Jack rolled over on his side, watching Irina enter from the balcony, 10 stories above the ground. His heart leapt, but his only response was, "Are you crazy? What are you doing?"
"Checking on you," came the quiet reply. A flashlight flicked on in Jack's face and he stifled a curse as the beam momentarily blinded him. "You're looking better." The flashlight flicked off.
"Thanks, mom."
Irina smiled and settled down on the bed, carefully placing a package on the floor.
"You know, the last couple of times you've visited me you've kicked my ass," said Jack warily. "I should call the police."
"The last couple of times you remember," she corrected lightly, smoothing back the hair from his face.
"Mmm. I wondered." Jack's hand reached out to hers in the dark and gave it a grateful squeeze. "OK, then. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"I brought you a snack."
Jack sniffed and groaned. "Chinese food?"
"Chicken lo mein. Your favorite. I thought," Irina turned troubled eyes on Jack, "I thought you might be getting tired of Peking duck."
Jack was silent.
"How is she, Jack?"
"The same," he said shortly. "No significant progress. Unconscious. No damage. Could wake up anytime, or not at all."
"She's been like that for?"
"A year."
Irina was silent for a moment, struggling. "Jack. It might be time for you to leave."
Jack jerked up in bed. "No," he said forcefully.
"Jack...," Irina swallowed, "she might never wake up. She could be like this for the rest of her life. What you're doing might be in vain." She laid her hand on his arm. "Sydney wouldn't want this," she finished gently.
"She'll wake up," Jack said with conviction.
"You can't know that," admonished Irina.
"You forget, Irina," said Jack quietly, "I can."
Irina's body stilled. "Il Dire?" she asked in a strangled voice. Hope and fear warred within her. Hope that Jack was right. Fear that he had gone mad under the strain.
"Yes," came the brief reply.
"Soon?"
"Yes."
"And then you'll leave?"
Jack paused. "Yes, Irina. And then I'll leave." His fingers played idly with the sheet.
"Where...will you go?"
"I haven't given it much thought." Not much point, he thought bleakly.
Irina took a deep breath. "You...could come with me."
After a long pause, Jack said slowly, "I'd like that." The truth. Just not the whole truth. Grateful for the darkness, he swallowed the lump in his throat. Was this how it had been for her, 20 years ago? Would she understand, looking back? Reaching up he tenderly traced the curve of her jaw. "Irina - would you stay with me tonight?"
Irina chuckled softly. "Surely you know the answer already?" and let him take her into his arms.
And silently, to himself, Jack amended his countdown. Four more trips to Hong Kong. 3 more missions. Two more months of covering Sloane's back. And one goodbye.
**
Irina lay awake, listening to Jack's even breathing after he had dropped off to sleep. Trying to reconcile the information he had given her with the love they had just made. With the infinite tenderness of his kisses, as if each would be his last. With the lingering of his caresses, as if he had been trying to memorize her body in the dark. With the suspicious dampness in his eyes, which had glittered in the moonlight when he had held her close after their release. And she worried - about what he hadn't told her.
If Sydney wasn't better in 3 months, she was coming in after both of them.