(28 months post-The Telling)
He heard her step long before he saw her. Confident. Lithe. Graceful.
Irina.
Irina studied him critically as she approached, escorted by one of the guards. He was pale. Composed. Wearing that damn poker face. Worried about the cameras, no doubt.
And then she looked into his eyes, and saw the spark of anger, quickly concealed. Her step faltered. What in the world?
"Kendall says 5 minutes only for today," said the guard to Irina, interrupting her train of thought. "I'll be watching on the camera." Irina waited impatiently until he had gone.
"Hello, Jack," she began cautiously.
"Hello, Irina," came the cool response.
"Comfortable?"
"The view's a little different from this side of the glass," he replied impassively. Jack let his gaze roam around the cell. "Any tips?"
"Don't eat the chicken cacciatore."
"Too late." A smile briefly lit up Jack's eyes, but was swiftly extinguished. "How's Sydney?" he asked abruptly.
"Physically - she's almost fully recovered. You were right; she was being drugged by Sloane to simulate temporary amnesia. She has all her memories back, now, with the exception of that two year gap."
"And...mentally?"
A shadow passed over Irina's face. "She's dealing with a lot, Jack. So much has changed, is different from the way she remembered. Vaughn....is married to someone else."
"That was awfully quick," said Jack with contempt. "Perhaps she's better off without him."
"I'm not sure Sydney would agree," sighed Irina. "And he *did* think she was dead."
A muscle jumped in Jack's jaw. "Yes, he did," said Jack evenly. He hesitated for a moment. "Will I see her?" he asked carefully.
"I...I think it may be a little while, Jack," Irina said gently. "She's a bit overwhelmed right now. Give her some time."
"I see," he said tonelessly, not meeting her eyes.
Deftly Irina changed the subject. "You've heard that Sloane managed to escape during the Ops base raid?" She watched him carefully for a reaction.
Jack shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "No, I'm a little out of the loop down here. But it's not surprising, really. He plans for most contingencies."
That was certainly not the reaction Irina had expected. "Sydney's still refusing to quit until Sloane is dead or captured," she prodded. "She says she needs closure."
"That was to be anticipated, given what she's gone through. I'm sure it will sort itself out," he responded neutrally.
"Jack!" said Irina exasperated. "Arvin Sloane has done his best to destroy our lives for the past 10 years. That may not be of interest to you, but I'm going to find that son-of-a-b*tch and make him suffer."
"Take a number," snapped Jack with a sudden flash of venom. "Sloane's mine."
"Not if I get to him first," said Irina challengingly.
"You won't." Jack's voice was implacable.
Irina's eyes roamed over the glass wall. "You know what they say...finders keepers..."
"...losers weepers," Jack finished, his throat suddenly choked with pain. He turned away from her quickly, then turned back, composed once more. "Which reminds me," he asked in a carefully casual voice, "what am I doing here? Behind this glass?"
Ah, thought Irina. That's what had been troubling him. "I thought you might wonder about that."
"Kendall told me you negotiated with him in advance," said Jack flatly. "He told me the terms of your immunity deal. It wasn't an accident, was it? You planned to hand me over to the CIA."
Goddamned Kendall, thought Irina to herself. "Yes, Jack, I did plan to hand you over to the CIA, but -,"
Jack's jaw tightened. "I see," he interrupted with controlled fury. "My compliments. I never saw it coming. Again." He turned on his heel and headed back to his bunk.
The guard coughed behind Irina. "Time's up."
Irina ignored him. "Jack!" she said angrily. "Come back here! I'm not done." She slammed her hand against the glass in frustration as he turned his face to the wall.
She spun around. "Open that door," she ordered the guard.
"No. And your time is up. Now," said the guard, resting his hand on his sidearm.
"I'm coming back tomorrow," Irina shouted wrathfully at the glass.
"Don't bother," was the reply from the bunk.
He heard her step long before he saw her. Confident. Lithe. Graceful.
Irina.
Irina studied him critically as she approached, escorted by one of the guards. He was pale. Composed. Wearing that damn poker face. Worried about the cameras, no doubt.
And then she looked into his eyes, and saw the spark of anger, quickly concealed. Her step faltered. What in the world?
"Kendall says 5 minutes only for today," said the guard to Irina, interrupting her train of thought. "I'll be watching on the camera." Irina waited impatiently until he had gone.
"Hello, Jack," she began cautiously.
"Hello, Irina," came the cool response.
"Comfortable?"
"The view's a little different from this side of the glass," he replied impassively. Jack let his gaze roam around the cell. "Any tips?"
"Don't eat the chicken cacciatore."
"Too late." A smile briefly lit up Jack's eyes, but was swiftly extinguished. "How's Sydney?" he asked abruptly.
"Physically - she's almost fully recovered. You were right; she was being drugged by Sloane to simulate temporary amnesia. She has all her memories back, now, with the exception of that two year gap."
"And...mentally?"
A shadow passed over Irina's face. "She's dealing with a lot, Jack. So much has changed, is different from the way she remembered. Vaughn....is married to someone else."
"That was awfully quick," said Jack with contempt. "Perhaps she's better off without him."
"I'm not sure Sydney would agree," sighed Irina. "And he *did* think she was dead."
A muscle jumped in Jack's jaw. "Yes, he did," said Jack evenly. He hesitated for a moment. "Will I see her?" he asked carefully.
"I...I think it may be a little while, Jack," Irina said gently. "She's a bit overwhelmed right now. Give her some time."
"I see," he said tonelessly, not meeting her eyes.
Deftly Irina changed the subject. "You've heard that Sloane managed to escape during the Ops base raid?" She watched him carefully for a reaction.
Jack shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "No, I'm a little out of the loop down here. But it's not surprising, really. He plans for most contingencies."
That was certainly not the reaction Irina had expected. "Sydney's still refusing to quit until Sloane is dead or captured," she prodded. "She says she needs closure."
"That was to be anticipated, given what she's gone through. I'm sure it will sort itself out," he responded neutrally.
"Jack!" said Irina exasperated. "Arvin Sloane has done his best to destroy our lives for the past 10 years. That may not be of interest to you, but I'm going to find that son-of-a-b*tch and make him suffer."
"Take a number," snapped Jack with a sudden flash of venom. "Sloane's mine."
"Not if I get to him first," said Irina challengingly.
"You won't." Jack's voice was implacable.
Irina's eyes roamed over the glass wall. "You know what they say...finders keepers..."
"...losers weepers," Jack finished, his throat suddenly choked with pain. He turned away from her quickly, then turned back, composed once more. "Which reminds me," he asked in a carefully casual voice, "what am I doing here? Behind this glass?"
Ah, thought Irina. That's what had been troubling him. "I thought you might wonder about that."
"Kendall told me you negotiated with him in advance," said Jack flatly. "He told me the terms of your immunity deal. It wasn't an accident, was it? You planned to hand me over to the CIA."
Goddamned Kendall, thought Irina to herself. "Yes, Jack, I did plan to hand you over to the CIA, but -,"
Jack's jaw tightened. "I see," he interrupted with controlled fury. "My compliments. I never saw it coming. Again." He turned on his heel and headed back to his bunk.
The guard coughed behind Irina. "Time's up."
Irina ignored him. "Jack!" she said angrily. "Come back here! I'm not done." She slammed her hand against the glass in frustration as he turned his face to the wall.
She spun around. "Open that door," she ordered the guard.
"No. And your time is up. Now," said the guard, resting his hand on his sidearm.
"I'm coming back tomorrow," Irina shouted wrathfully at the glass.
"Don't bother," was the reply from the bunk.