She could see the veins in her hands.
Grimacing slightly, Irina bit back the pain, shifting her fingers, watching the blood vessels form like tight chords just underneath the skin.
The bullet wound was healing, but slowly.
How long would she be able to do this?
Could she continue to outrun bullets, withstand torture, deceive every day when she was fifty? Sixty? Eighty?
Nearly thirty years of her life serving one faction or another, and for what?
The villa was secluded, dark, there was never a way to be sure that someone wasn't there waiting with a gun in their hands, a bomb planted underneath a tile, poison in her drink.
It was a lifestyle she had chosen, and she used to think it was worth it.
Shifting the black pack to her wounded shoulder, she hissed at the pain, but kept it there, letting the pressure burn into her skin. The arm needed to heal, and she had to get past the agony to the point where she could ignore it.
Numbness was key to her survival.
By pure habit, she reached underneath her jacket to slip the gun from its holster, cocking it and keeping it easily at her side as she glanced around the dark wilderness of the safe house.
It was silly. The Covenant's hold on this area was so strong only a person who wanted to commit suicide would consider touching her here.
The door stuck slightly, and throwing her shoulder at it, she felt it give, feeling alongside the wall for the push button that would flood the room with light.
With a click, she could see. Good Lord, she was tired.
The briefings had been more intense, her meetings arduous. Losing the diamond to Sydney had taken away some of her credibility, and as a result, she had had to become more ruthless, more lethal, more like the Irina she was before.
This morning had been spent convincing a former member of Simon Walker's team to give the whereabouts of his killer. He had given the information a little too freely. Irina had been forced to break his jaw before he could release Jack Bristow's name to her associates.
It was almost ironic. She never knew how much she had changed until she was forced to regress into that harder, darker Irina. Just twice today she had caught Sark staring at her with a curious glint in his eyes, as if he were seeing a stranger.
It was getting dangerous.
Dropping the bag, Irina finally exhaled, turning into the living room when she suddenly froze, heart thudding against her chest in one hard, powerful beat.
Immediately she had the gun cocked, swiveling in one fluid move to pin the intruder in its sight.
It was no intruder.
"Jack," she whispered.
Or rather, his ghost. The man before her was pale, gloved hands holding a gun aimed straight for her heart.
Frozen in mid-movement, Irina could not yet drop her weapon, instead utterly transfixed with the image of the man before her. Throat dry, she could barely rasp her greeting, finding his figure grow increasingly blurry in her eye-sight.
"Oh, God, Jack-"
The gun dropped to the ground, and she stepped over it, ready to go to him when he only held his own gun more steadily. Clipped on top was a silencer.
She did not dare take another step. Suddenly unsure, Irina swallowed, glancing from the gun to his eyes. They were dark, angry – hateful.
"Jack, what are you-"
"I swore, Irina," he began. His tone was unfamiliar. It was ragged. Broken. "I swore that I would never trust you again. And I DID. I DID-"
Oh, Lord... he had heard-
Licking her lips carefully, Irina's fists relaxed, heart beat slowing to a soft, rhythmic pulse. "Jack, you must listen to me. Whatever Sydney told you-"
"You're WITH THEM, Irina!"
"You're wrong," she answered evenly, adopting a low, soothing tone. His emotion, previously locked away, now seemed to overwhelm him, as the gun shook slightly in his palm. "Jack, I'm with you."
"Shut up-"
"Jack, you must listen to me. The Covenant was behind Sydney's disappearance. I found no other leads. I had no choice but to infiltrate-"
"Shut up-" He stepped forward, eyes now watering, so much pain in his broken soul that Irina nearly wept for him.
"Jack, please. I love you. I love our daughter. Becoming one of them was the only way to truly understand what they did to her."
Slowly, she took a step forward. His eyes flickered down at the movement, the gun once again held steady as he swallowed hard.
"Don't."
"There was no other way, Jack. I had no choice-"
"I don't believe you!" The dark, hoarse shout tore from his throat, a desperate plea from a desperate man.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She took another step forward. "Jack, I couldn't tell you. I couldn't find you! You never contacted me, and for so long it was simply too dangerous!"
"I should kill you for the pain you've caused her," he whispered.
Two feet away seemed a chasm. The gun now pressed directly against her chest, and Irina let it stay there. Thirty years, and it had come to this.
So be it.
If she would die by anyone's hands, she would rather it be Jack's.
"If you feel you must, then kill me, Jack. I will not stop you." Jack Bristow's eyes were moist, his face contorted in a desperate, passionate expression, as he openly struggled to pull the trigger. Perfectly still, she allowed it. "But if you loved me at all in the past three years. Not Laura Bristow, me. If you loved me at all, then this is the moment then you must trust me. I have not earned it, but I ask for it all the same."
The cry of rage that fell from his lips forced her eyes closed, and she took a ragged breath, waiting for the inevitable.
It never came.
Slowly, her eyes drifted open to discover the gun now lowering, Jack shaking his head, visible emotion crossing over his face as it fell with a clatter to the floor.
Oh, God...
She could not fight the smile, the tears as they slipped freely. Her palms gently reached for his shaking body, smoothing up the rough stubble of his cheek. "It's allright, darling..."
"Irina..."
Fingers curled around her fists, and with a rough pull, she was forced into his arms, locked in a desperate embrace as his mouth settled on hers hungrily.
She released a choked moan, sobbing slightly as she opened her lips, felt him invade with a possessive tongue, and she sucked it in gladly.
When he finally released her lips for no other reason but the need to breathe, she was firmly wrapped in his hold, forehead resting against his as she gasped raggedly, heartbeat pounding.
"I've missed you," he whispered thickly, tangling fingers into her hair, eyelashes tickling against her cheek. "I love you so much, Irina-"
Even as her heart burst, she had no time to respond, because his lips once again found hers, plundering her mouth in a desperate confirmation of his feelings.
--
"Owww..."
He paused in his ministrations, tossing her a concerned glance. "Does that hurt?"
Arching an eyebrow incredulously, Irina responded, "No, I simply said 'ow' because it felt appropriate, what with you sticking a finger into my wound and all that loveliness."
"You're not funny."
"Mmm... You just don't understand my humor." The sheet once again slipped, and Irina finally gave up trying to hold it to her chest. Letting it fall to her waist, she craned her neck, hissing slightly as Jack continued to prod the wound. "Do you mind?"
He glanced at her bared breasts, and with a small smile dancing on his lips, he turned his attention back to the reddened skin of her arm. "Not at all. I like the view better this way."
"Pig."
He waggled an eyebrow like a Marx brother, and she couldn't help but laugh.
Frowning slightly, he felt for the light gauze next to the bed. "Syd?"
"No, Weiss," she responded, content to merely watch.
He paused, looking up. "You let Weiss shoot you?"
For some reason she got that by doing so she had just slipped in his estimation. "I'm not quite sure I LET him. At the moment I was attempting to outrun my daughter, steal a high priced diamond, keep Sark from killing them both, and running in three inch stiletto heels."
"That's no excuse."
"You didn't see the heels." She smiled. "Ah well. Then I must be getting old."
"You're getting more beautiful every day," he retorted back. She managed a smile, carefully caressing his jaw before settling back on the bed.
"Thank you."
He nodded, wrapping the last of the dressing, back straight as he stared down at her naked form. "I assume you know about Julia, then."
Her smile faded. "Yes," she admitted. "I'm also quite aware of what you did to Simon Walker. That was stupid, Jack."
It broke the moment. Shaking his head in an exaggerated sigh, Jack pushed from the bed. "Irina-"
"Listen to me," she began firmly, sitting up, mouth set in a frown. "I just killed one of his men because he knew about you. Sark knew about you. Because of you, they found out about Sydney. It's all I can do to keep them from... taking an interest."
He turned back. "Simon Walker had information regarding Julia-"
"Yes," she snapped. "I know. That was no excuse to do what you did."
"He deserved to die."
"Of course he did. Everyone of them do. That's not the point."
"Then what is your point, Irina? Because I'm still not regretting what I did."
Closing her eyes, Irina paused, licking her lips as she tried to sort out her thoughts.
"My point," she said finally, "Is that I was gaining his confidence, establishing his trust. Simon was impulsive and foolish, but not stupid. He was beginning to talk about her, her position with the covenant. He was telling me things, and I was getting closer to figuring it out – and then of course you shot him dead. Twice."
Her exasperated expression, coupled with the angry pout, amused him. A smile began to tug on the corner of his lips, almost as if it was against his will. When it spread across his face, she looked away, trying hard not to get caught in his infectious enjoyment.
The bed sank with his weight as broad hands skimmed at her bare knee. "So we have different approaches."
"Don't flirt," she said firmly, slapping his hand away. "This is important."
He paused. "It is. Irina, what you're doing is dangerous."
She sighed, head falling back against the wooden head board to study him casually. "And what would you have me do? Turn myself in? I can't guard Sydney in a cell. Arvin Sloane and the covenant need to be watched. You can only do so much."
He said nothing at first. Fingers gently pushed an angry curl away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. "She'll understand, Irina. I won't let her hate you."
"Sydney is stubborn," she said with a grim smile. "She got it from her father."
"Now THAT is where you're wrong." Sliding in beside her, he slipped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he gently tipped her chin with his fingers. "Irina," he said seriously, "We'll figure this out. We'll find the key to this mess."
They had been saying that for years now, it seemed. Were they really any closer?
Closing her eyes, Irina gave up the doubt. Without a word, she buried herself in Jack's arms, pressing her ear to his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat thump against it.
"When do you have to leave?"
He ran fingertips through her long tresses, scratching gently at her scalp.
"They don't know I'm gone. I can stay the night."
She shifted up until they were face to face. "Good," she whispered.
--
She could feel something was wrong the moment her eyes opened.
Jack's arm was heavy around her, pinning her to his chest, while he snored lightly.
Pushing against his chest, Irina blinked once, twice, letting it fall away from her body.
Around her there were shadows, a dead silence in the air that was just... off somehow.
Eyes narrowed, and softly, she began to shake her husband. "Jack..."
"Irina..."
"Shhh." Stock still, Irina glanced carefully over the villa, eyes sweeping the contours of the house. It was so quiet...
Jack's eyes were now open, stock still as he watched her with open curiosity.
"Irina-"
"Jack, shut up." Mouth open to control her breathing, Irina let her mind go, desperately searching for the thing that was wrong.
Suddenly she understood. It was too quiet.
"No birds, no crickets, Jack get up!"
"Why?"
"We're surrounded!"
The warning came too late.
The door crashed through half a second later, and her safehouse was flooded with at least twenty men in black masks and rifles, all surrounding the naked couple in the bed.
"CIA! FREEZE!"
Irina could not look at Jack. Staring into the eyes of one operative through the black mask, she greeted him politely.
"Mr. Weiss. Would you mind if I got dressed first?"
--