Chapter Three: First Discussions

The woman snapped out of her thoughts as she heard a knocking on the door. Her eyes narrowed as they opened and focused on the wooden threshold, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. The knocking continued for several more seconds, spelling out a brief message in Morse code. Not the safest, and perhaps not the most necessary idea in the world, but it would suffice. While it was always better to be safe then sorry, excessive paranoia would not do either. Besides, Irina already had far more reliable safety measures in place, and was sure Jack had done the same.

Getting up off of the couch in was seemed like one quick, fluid movement, she walked over to the door and opened it, fixing her eyes on the man who stood in the hall. As usual Jack Bristow was impeccably and professionally dressed, donning a dark gray suit and even darker tie. She wondered for a moment idly, whether he did his own ironing now: When they had been married she had always done it for him. A small smiled crossed her face at the thought; He had always insisted that his suits be done just so; It had deeply annoyed her, or Laura as she was then called, and more than once she had taken the opportunity to tell him so.

If he noticed the brief change in woman's demeanor Jack showed no signs of it, instead choosing to silently enter the motel room, scanning it for a moment before uttering a word. The parallel between this room and Panama was not lost on him, though he deeply doubted the performance would be repeated anytime soon. This woman, Jack knew, was not to be trusted.

Why had he come then, knowing all this and more? The answer was simple. Sydney. His daughter, their daughter, had disappeared, and if she had any useful Intel, Jack was willing to work with the devil herself to bring Sydney home. This is not to say he didn't first rely on more useful sources, but after two months of turning up nothing, Jack had realized that he would need more than just what the CIA had to offer.

And so he had turned to the one person who's unique position, on the surface at least, mirrored his own. She had first contacted him several days after the fire, though perhaps 'contact' would not be the best word to describe the events that occurred. Both had been angry, both suspicious of the other's roles. Both spies with considerable skills in strategy and physical combat. Eventually they worked out the fact that neither had anything to do with the disappearance, and Jack had curtly told her to go, saying he would call if he had any information or needed help. But the phone had been silent, at least until last week.

"Irina"

"Jack"

The greetings were uttered calmly by both, Jack's expression careful, warily neutral, while Irina's held just the tiniest trace of amusement. The two stared at each other for a moment, as if both were unsure of what to do next. It was Irina who finally broke the silence, walking over to the couch and sitting down casually, her movements like that of a cat, before she spoke.

"Took you long enough to call" she said pointedly. He acknowledge the comment with a small nod.

"I wanted to check my other sources first"

More trustworthy sources the words were not spoken, but they hung in the air, and both knew it to be true. She could not blame him for his suspicion, unwillingness to work with her, but it was frustrating nonetheless.

"I'm not here to trick or deceive you Jack" she told him, just a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I just want to find Sydney, like you" She sounded sincere, and he wanted to believe her. It was hard, the last week weeks had been terribly so. Jack had no one to confide in: there were others who felt the loss, Vaughn, Dixon, Will (who was going through the pain of losing two friends at once) and more. These were not, however, people to which Jack could just open up and spill his heart to.

Not that Irina fit that category either. She was manipulative, as calculating as him, probably even colder. Even now, for all he knew, this could just be another plan or agenda of sorts.

"The CIA thought it had a few leads but so far we turned up nothing. Kendall said he'd give it another two months at most, and then we'll have to presume her dead". "Most already do" he added after a pause, the pained expressions of his co-workers coming to mind. It was times like these he just wanted to drown all the pain away in a flowing river of alcohol, scotch. Numb the pain till you can feel it no more. He had taken this path once before, when his wife, or the woman he thought her to be, died. He took it to the brink.

"And you don't?" she asked, trying to keep all emotion out of her voice. It was a game they both played, working together, each careful not to give away anything more than it was worth, trying to keep anything that could be used as ammunition locked inside.

"No, I don't. It isn't consistent with the movement of the fire, no body was found. Assuming she was taken by a person or group, they would have had no reason to kill her." It was what he'd been telling himself from the beginning, even when others had disputed his claims. To his surprise Irina was nodding her head slowly.

"Yes, I was thinking along the same lines" she told him.

"Any idea who it might be"

"I have some, of who it might be, and who it is most definitely not" Her eyes moved up to meet with his, and he could not look away. The connection was still there, no matter what either of them said.

"Sloane?" he suggested.

"Perhaps, We're not on the best of terms as of now" Jack shot her a brief look of surprise.

"I would have thought the two of you would have worked that all out by now"

"Jack…" Her voice held the slightest trace of a warning, telling him she fully understood and did not appreciate the tone behind his words. He nodded again, shifting back to his calm, professional wall, the one he used to distance himself from family, friends, and her.

"We can meet in a week with relevant Intel, have a brainstorming session. Until then find out what you can" he told her. Irina nodded in response. Satisfied he turned to go, before the situation could once again get out of his control.

"Jack?" He turned around again to face her. "How are you doing? I mean, without her…?"

"Fine. I'd discuss it further but I must go, or people will get suspicious" he said, clearing his throat. Giving her one last glance the man hurried out of the room. Irina sighed as she watched him go.