She was halfway through the bottle of champagne when a knock sounded on the door to their apartment. *Her* apartment, she irritably amended, wondering who could be bothering her at this time of night. She caught herself quickly. Of course, it must be the police, coming to tell her about Charlie. Swiftly she composed her features and slowly opened the door.
"Hello, sugar," said JD stepping briskly into the room. "Charlie sends his regards. He wanted you to have this."
Stunned, she took the envelope he shoved into her hands.
"His life insurance policy. And his marriage license."
She looked inside. All she saw were ashes.
"And he wants you gone in one hour."
Blood drained from her face and, wheeling, she stumbled blindly out of the room. JD casually scanned the apartment and, finding the champagne, poured himself a glass.
**
When he found her, she was bent over the balcony railing, staring out at empty streets and dreamless houses. Sullen and still, she refused to see him in the dark, and he turned on every lamp until the room shone bright behind her. Until the melancholy glow lit her like an angel on the road to hell. She was holding one fist over the edge, tilting it slowly, and he waited several seconds more before she turned to him at last. Her smile was painful, her eyes clear, and he watched her fingers loosen as the ashes fell.
Pensively he walked up to stand beside her, his gaze outwards. They stood there silently for a time, neither moved to speak.
"How did you know?" she asked at last.
JD shrugged wearily. "Let's say I've become a little more cautious over time. Things that are too good to be true...generally aren't."
She nodded and turned back towards the street, brooding.
Several long moments passed.
"When did you decide you were engaged to the wrong partner?" JD finally asked, his voice even.
She licked her lips, but did not respond.
"It *was* you who framed me, wasn't it? Charlie and I compared notes. You told him that you had always known I was dirty, that you were praying I wouldn't get caught. It's why Charlie gave up on me."
"Jack, I - ,"
"And then, last week," continued JD as if he hadn't heard her interjection, "Charlie's office collared a small-time hood. Who offered up information on a cop who had been framed 20 years ago. When Charlie told you, you were afraid he'd eventually put two and two together."
She opened her mouth in reflex, to spin a story, to misdirect, to seduce him with her words. She had been in worse jams than this. Men were so easy to -
"Don't," came the implacable voice next to her.
Her head snapped around, and she looked into a face that she suddenly realized she didn't know. JD. Not Jack. "You've changed," she said, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Yes."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I did love you, you know," she began in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. "But you wanted to stay a flatfoot forever. You were so damn dedicated to your job. Charlie....Charlie had ambitions. He understood about getting ahead, about having the good things in life."
"I loved you," said JD softly. "Why wasn't that enough?"
Her face contorted in bitterness. "You fool. You never understood. Love isn't enough, can't be enough for dames like me. Look at me," she swept a hand mockingly across her silk dress, her hand made shoes, her expensive jewelry. "Can you imagine me poor? Waiting at home with your dinner every night? Squalling brats at my feet?"
"No," said JD with startled comprehension, finally seeing her clearly. "No, I can't."
He looked down at her face in the moonlight, the face that had filled his dreams for 20 years. He felt, he recognized with surprise, nothing. Not passion, not hate. Nothing. No, that wasn't right. He felt...pity.
"Where will you go?" he asked as she turned away.
"I don't know," she said tiredly, pulling on her coat and picking up her purse. "New York, maybe. I've probably worn out my welcome in this town."
"I could call you a cab."
"No."
Wordlessly they walked together to the door of the apartment. She reached up and brushed his cheek with her lips. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Goodbye, Irina," he whispered, as the door shut irrevocably behind her.
"Hello, sugar," said JD stepping briskly into the room. "Charlie sends his regards. He wanted you to have this."
Stunned, she took the envelope he shoved into her hands.
"His life insurance policy. And his marriage license."
She looked inside. All she saw were ashes.
"And he wants you gone in one hour."
Blood drained from her face and, wheeling, she stumbled blindly out of the room. JD casually scanned the apartment and, finding the champagne, poured himself a glass.
**
When he found her, she was bent over the balcony railing, staring out at empty streets and dreamless houses. Sullen and still, she refused to see him in the dark, and he turned on every lamp until the room shone bright behind her. Until the melancholy glow lit her like an angel on the road to hell. She was holding one fist over the edge, tilting it slowly, and he waited several seconds more before she turned to him at last. Her smile was painful, her eyes clear, and he watched her fingers loosen as the ashes fell.
Pensively he walked up to stand beside her, his gaze outwards. They stood there silently for a time, neither moved to speak.
"How did you know?" she asked at last.
JD shrugged wearily. "Let's say I've become a little more cautious over time. Things that are too good to be true...generally aren't."
She nodded and turned back towards the street, brooding.
Several long moments passed.
"When did you decide you were engaged to the wrong partner?" JD finally asked, his voice even.
She licked her lips, but did not respond.
"It *was* you who framed me, wasn't it? Charlie and I compared notes. You told him that you had always known I was dirty, that you were praying I wouldn't get caught. It's why Charlie gave up on me."
"Jack, I - ,"
"And then, last week," continued JD as if he hadn't heard her interjection, "Charlie's office collared a small-time hood. Who offered up information on a cop who had been framed 20 years ago. When Charlie told you, you were afraid he'd eventually put two and two together."
She opened her mouth in reflex, to spin a story, to misdirect, to seduce him with her words. She had been in worse jams than this. Men were so easy to -
"Don't," came the implacable voice next to her.
Her head snapped around, and she looked into a face that she suddenly realized she didn't know. JD. Not Jack. "You've changed," she said, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Yes."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I did love you, you know," she began in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. "But you wanted to stay a flatfoot forever. You were so damn dedicated to your job. Charlie....Charlie had ambitions. He understood about getting ahead, about having the good things in life."
"I loved you," said JD softly. "Why wasn't that enough?"
Her face contorted in bitterness. "You fool. You never understood. Love isn't enough, can't be enough for dames like me. Look at me," she swept a hand mockingly across her silk dress, her hand made shoes, her expensive jewelry. "Can you imagine me poor? Waiting at home with your dinner every night? Squalling brats at my feet?"
"No," said JD with startled comprehension, finally seeing her clearly. "No, I can't."
He looked down at her face in the moonlight, the face that had filled his dreams for 20 years. He felt, he recognized with surprise, nothing. Not passion, not hate. Nothing. No, that wasn't right. He felt...pity.
"Where will you go?" he asked as she turned away.
"I don't know," she said tiredly, pulling on her coat and picking up her purse. "New York, maybe. I've probably worn out my welcome in this town."
"I could call you a cab."
"No."
Wordlessly they walked together to the door of the apartment. She reached up and brushed his cheek with her lips. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Goodbye, Irina," he whispered, as the door shut irrevocably behind her.