I Know You Love Him
Chapter 6: Farwell to Sentiment
Familiar. Too familiar. Standing there, between you and Alexander, trying to see in your face the sister I had know so well, a decade before. Your face was impassive. I don't you what you and he were talking about before I entered the room, but you stopped speaking immediately, and I felt the silence stretch between us, nearly unbearable, until Alexander cleared his throat.
"You have a debriefing later, Irina. I am not sure how extensive it will be." Your brow furrowed for a moment, as if you didn't understand, and then slowly, the clouds lifted from your eyes, and you nodded wearily. It took me a moment to realize. Russian.
Alexander was speaking Russian. You had not spoken a single word of your mother tongue in ten years. Not even with your handler. Not even in your mind. I could see behind it behind your eyes: not only had you been speaking in English; you had been thinking in it. You were still thinking it.
I gave Alexander an appealing look. "The two of you will have an hour or so to get reacquainted." As he left the room, he gave my shoulder a light squeeze. He also gave me what was either a genuinely compassionate look, or a very good imitation of one. Alexander. Every now and then, he could be surprisingly decent.
I turned to look at you, half-hoping for a jeering comment about him, but not really expecting anything. I was right. And you could not seem to quite look me in the eye. Fear curled up in the pit of my stomach. Where is my sister?
"It's good to finally see you again. Irina." I spoke in Russian.
You looked up, opened your mouth as if to correct me, and snapped it shut again. Silence again. Distance between us. The only time in my life I have ever felt disconnected from you.
Where is my sister?
"Rina," I babbled desperately, "I know it must be terrible, but you – you have done a great service for your country. Our country. You should be –"
You looked at me then. Stopped me with a glare. I was actually relieved to see your eyes blazing, even if it was in anger. At least there was something. At least when you spoke, you seemed to remember Russian.
"Say it. Proud."
Where is my sister?
"Go on. Just say it."
Where is my sister?
"Say it so I can slit your throat."
I smiled. There you are. "I've missed you too, Irina."
You let out a laugh that quickly turned into a cry. I rushed to put my arms around you. You were not made to be like this. "My sister, you are home. Your country. Your home."
"My country," you said hoarsely. "My mission. My husband. My daughter. My country. My mission..." you voice became almost sing-song, a self-mockery. You let out another disturbing laugh. You slid to the ground, and I held you there. This was the only time I saw you cry. I had heard a sniffle on occasion in our childhood, seen a brushed aside tear once every eon, but not this. Not gasping sobs as you buried your head in my shoulder, muttering brokenly, switching back and forth between English and Russian. It was then that I first heard the name: Rimbaldi. It made no more sense to me than the rest of your words did, and I ignored it then, forgetting or not hearing what you said in connection to it, but storing the unfamiliar name in the back of my mind. Later.
And you spoke other names, names I knew. Jack. Sydney. Laura. Bristow. Emily.
Arvin Sloane. At this name, my grip on you, and my jaw - both tightened at the same time. Gradually, you quieted. I glanced at my watch, and cursed silently in every language I knew. Keep in mind, I know as many at least as many as you do, if not more. My God. It had already been an hour? I felt panic rising in my throat as I looked at your red, puffy face. They would know. They would be able to tell.
"Katya, how I am going to –"
I cut you off. "You listen to me now," I whispered, swallowing my own tears and trying to sound steadier than I felt. "First thing – Bristow. Contempt, Irina. He fell for your act. Your act. You hate him."
"But –"
"You. Hate. Him."
You nodded. You made your lips form a tight smile. You looked at me, and your eyes became cold, impenetrable. "Naturally. Of course." You gave a little laugh, ran your hand across your face. "I hate him." You swallowed, nodding, as I eyed your wedding ring, and frowned. Always a quick study, you caught on. You slid the ring off your finger, tossed it carelessly on the floor, and we both stood up.
"Thank you, Katya."
"That is what a sister is for, Rina."
You looked at me thoughtfully. "You know, I just realized something."
I cocked my head. "Oh?"
"Khasinau. You've slept with him."
I felt my face color, and got angry with myself for letting your words affect me so. This is ridiculous. "Irina –"
"A lot." "Irina –" "Hmm. Multiple positions, too." "Rina!" "And it's been quite good as well. My little sister has been keeping herself busy. Hmm. But of course, now that I am back, I expect he'll toss you aside." You had already braced yourself, waiting for me to try and strike you. But I have always had a cooler head than you, Irina. And ten years without your taunts had made me almost nostalgic for them. "Fine." I gave you a toothy grin, enjoying your surprise. "You can help yourself to my leftovers. Consider it a welcome-home gift." The look on your face. I will remember it for the rest of my life. Just at that moment, Alexander Khashinau strolled back into the room. For a long moment, we both stared at him. And then, we just burst out laughing. He looked between us, well aware that we were sharing some sort of joke at his expense, but still seeming content to let it pass. "I don't want to know. Irina," he added more grimly. "It's time now." Then his eye caught a glint of gold on the ground. He looked back up at you face, which you all- too-hastily turned towards me. "Oh, Katya – get rid of that for me, will you?" You said, and you winked at him. I frowned, thinking your flippancy was a bit overdone. He gave you an enigmatical look. It was difficult to read, but it did not mask his renewed attraction to you. I did not feel especially possessive of him, at that particular time, nor any other time during our involvement. Still, I did not enjoy watching his gaze roam over your body with such obvious and tactless intensity. I rolled my eyes in disgust. Honestly, couldn't he wait to ogle you until after I left the room? Men. Then I told myself that I should be pleased: after all, if his libido was blinding him to the truth I could so easily read in your eyes, so much the better. "They are waiting for you, my dear." You nodded and walked out, leaving Alexander and I alone in the room. He smiled at me, almost sadly. "Katya, you know, you are still unique. Irreplaceable." I gave him my sweetest look. "Wish I could say the same for you. Darling." "You little witch." He crossed the room quickly and kissed me, laughing when I pushed him away. "Oh Katya, come now..." He stroked my neck, reminding me of how much I still enjoyed his touch. "Old time's sake, and all that...." He drew me closer, kissing me relentlessly. "We are what we are." "Irina ... is not ... going to ... sleep with you." I managed to get this out between kisses, though I was finding it increasingly difficult to speak. At least, not any time soon. "Oh, I know that." This statement startled me so much that I broke apart from him, a bit breathless, to stare. "But surely you would agree," he continued, "for me to pine – "You mean lust –" "Whatever. After your sister, while I continue to," another kiss, "with you ... now that is just unfair. And in completely poor taste." Two surprisingly decent gestures in one day? My eyes narrowed. "Exactly what angle are you working here, Alexander Khashinau?" He laughed. "You Derevko women are all the same. So pessimistic. So mistrustful. Allow yourself a little sentiment for once, Katya, and I promise I won't tell anyone. You and I – well, as I said, we are what we are. Nothing more, nothing less." "And what are we, exactly?" I asked, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. In response, he kissed me again, lifting me off the ground as I twined my legs nimbly around his waist. "You come to bed with me one last time, Katya. And you just let me show you."
Chapter 6: Farwell to Sentiment
Familiar. Too familiar. Standing there, between you and Alexander, trying to see in your face the sister I had know so well, a decade before. Your face was impassive. I don't you what you and he were talking about before I entered the room, but you stopped speaking immediately, and I felt the silence stretch between us, nearly unbearable, until Alexander cleared his throat.
"You have a debriefing later, Irina. I am not sure how extensive it will be." Your brow furrowed for a moment, as if you didn't understand, and then slowly, the clouds lifted from your eyes, and you nodded wearily. It took me a moment to realize. Russian.
Alexander was speaking Russian. You had not spoken a single word of your mother tongue in ten years. Not even with your handler. Not even in your mind. I could see behind it behind your eyes: not only had you been speaking in English; you had been thinking in it. You were still thinking it.
I gave Alexander an appealing look. "The two of you will have an hour or so to get reacquainted." As he left the room, he gave my shoulder a light squeeze. He also gave me what was either a genuinely compassionate look, or a very good imitation of one. Alexander. Every now and then, he could be surprisingly decent.
I turned to look at you, half-hoping for a jeering comment about him, but not really expecting anything. I was right. And you could not seem to quite look me in the eye. Fear curled up in the pit of my stomach. Where is my sister?
"It's good to finally see you again. Irina." I spoke in Russian.
You looked up, opened your mouth as if to correct me, and snapped it shut again. Silence again. Distance between us. The only time in my life I have ever felt disconnected from you.
Where is my sister?
"Rina," I babbled desperately, "I know it must be terrible, but you – you have done a great service for your country. Our country. You should be –"
You looked at me then. Stopped me with a glare. I was actually relieved to see your eyes blazing, even if it was in anger. At least there was something. At least when you spoke, you seemed to remember Russian.
"Say it. Proud."
Where is my sister?
"Go on. Just say it."
Where is my sister?
"Say it so I can slit your throat."
I smiled. There you are. "I've missed you too, Irina."
You let out a laugh that quickly turned into a cry. I rushed to put my arms around you. You were not made to be like this. "My sister, you are home. Your country. Your home."
"My country," you said hoarsely. "My mission. My husband. My daughter. My country. My mission..." you voice became almost sing-song, a self-mockery. You let out another disturbing laugh. You slid to the ground, and I held you there. This was the only time I saw you cry. I had heard a sniffle on occasion in our childhood, seen a brushed aside tear once every eon, but not this. Not gasping sobs as you buried your head in my shoulder, muttering brokenly, switching back and forth between English and Russian. It was then that I first heard the name: Rimbaldi. It made no more sense to me than the rest of your words did, and I ignored it then, forgetting or not hearing what you said in connection to it, but storing the unfamiliar name in the back of my mind. Later.
And you spoke other names, names I knew. Jack. Sydney. Laura. Bristow. Emily.
Arvin Sloane. At this name, my grip on you, and my jaw - both tightened at the same time. Gradually, you quieted. I glanced at my watch, and cursed silently in every language I knew. Keep in mind, I know as many at least as many as you do, if not more. My God. It had already been an hour? I felt panic rising in my throat as I looked at your red, puffy face. They would know. They would be able to tell.
"Katya, how I am going to –"
I cut you off. "You listen to me now," I whispered, swallowing my own tears and trying to sound steadier than I felt. "First thing – Bristow. Contempt, Irina. He fell for your act. Your act. You hate him."
"But –"
"You. Hate. Him."
You nodded. You made your lips form a tight smile. You looked at me, and your eyes became cold, impenetrable. "Naturally. Of course." You gave a little laugh, ran your hand across your face. "I hate him." You swallowed, nodding, as I eyed your wedding ring, and frowned. Always a quick study, you caught on. You slid the ring off your finger, tossed it carelessly on the floor, and we both stood up.
"Thank you, Katya."
"That is what a sister is for, Rina."
You looked at me thoughtfully. "You know, I just realized something."
I cocked my head. "Oh?"
"Khasinau. You've slept with him."
I felt my face color, and got angry with myself for letting your words affect me so. This is ridiculous. "Irina –"
"A lot." "Irina –" "Hmm. Multiple positions, too." "Rina!" "And it's been quite good as well. My little sister has been keeping herself busy. Hmm. But of course, now that I am back, I expect he'll toss you aside." You had already braced yourself, waiting for me to try and strike you. But I have always had a cooler head than you, Irina. And ten years without your taunts had made me almost nostalgic for them. "Fine." I gave you a toothy grin, enjoying your surprise. "You can help yourself to my leftovers. Consider it a welcome-home gift." The look on your face. I will remember it for the rest of my life. Just at that moment, Alexander Khashinau strolled back into the room. For a long moment, we both stared at him. And then, we just burst out laughing. He looked between us, well aware that we were sharing some sort of joke at his expense, but still seeming content to let it pass. "I don't want to know. Irina," he added more grimly. "It's time now." Then his eye caught a glint of gold on the ground. He looked back up at you face, which you all- too-hastily turned towards me. "Oh, Katya – get rid of that for me, will you?" You said, and you winked at him. I frowned, thinking your flippancy was a bit overdone. He gave you an enigmatical look. It was difficult to read, but it did not mask his renewed attraction to you. I did not feel especially possessive of him, at that particular time, nor any other time during our involvement. Still, I did not enjoy watching his gaze roam over your body with such obvious and tactless intensity. I rolled my eyes in disgust. Honestly, couldn't he wait to ogle you until after I left the room? Men. Then I told myself that I should be pleased: after all, if his libido was blinding him to the truth I could so easily read in your eyes, so much the better. "They are waiting for you, my dear." You nodded and walked out, leaving Alexander and I alone in the room. He smiled at me, almost sadly. "Katya, you know, you are still unique. Irreplaceable." I gave him my sweetest look. "Wish I could say the same for you. Darling." "You little witch." He crossed the room quickly and kissed me, laughing when I pushed him away. "Oh Katya, come now..." He stroked my neck, reminding me of how much I still enjoyed his touch. "Old time's sake, and all that...." He drew me closer, kissing me relentlessly. "We are what we are." "Irina ... is not ... going to ... sleep with you." I managed to get this out between kisses, though I was finding it increasingly difficult to speak. At least, not any time soon. "Oh, I know that." This statement startled me so much that I broke apart from him, a bit breathless, to stare. "But surely you would agree," he continued, "for me to pine – "You mean lust –" "Whatever. After your sister, while I continue to," another kiss, "with you ... now that is just unfair. And in completely poor taste." Two surprisingly decent gestures in one day? My eyes narrowed. "Exactly what angle are you working here, Alexander Khashinau?" He laughed. "You Derevko women are all the same. So pessimistic. So mistrustful. Allow yourself a little sentiment for once, Katya, and I promise I won't tell anyone. You and I – well, as I said, we are what we are. Nothing more, nothing less." "And what are we, exactly?" I asked, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. In response, he kissed me again, lifting me off the ground as I twined my legs nimbly around his waist. "You come to bed with me one last time, Katya. And you just let me show you."