Part 10: Hostias
Jack looked around at the room that Irina helped him into. It was much larger than the tiny bedroom; at one end was a fireplace, another double bed, and a couch, while the other end had a table and chairs, a sink, and what looked like a wood-burning stove. Sydney was sitting at the table; she looked up when they entered and watched him warily. Elena stood by the stove with another woman who had to be Katya. She didn't resemble Irina quite as much as Elena did, but the family resemblance was still evident.
Jack was soon seated at the table next to Sydney, and bowls of potato soup were served in silence. Jack ate slowly while trying to organize his thoughts and emotions into something that made sense. How should he react to all this? Think tactically, he told himself.
Elena had said that Sydney had been in Russia for six months; the fact that she could apparently speak Russian with relative ease backed that up. He looked over at his daughter. Her hair was a good four inches longer than it had been when he'd last seen her, and was bound in two neat pigtails. She looked healthy, clean, and well fed, she didn't seem unhappy, and the only person in the room that she seemed to be uncomfortable around was him. All the evidence, therefore, said that Irina had been taking good care of her. Had that not been the case, Jack's first goal would have been to find a way to get away with his daughter.
As it was, though, escape was out of the question, at least for now. He was physically weak, both from the drugs and from his time in prison, and Sydney would no doubt resist if he attempted to take her from her mother. He needed to find out what the sisters wanted with him.
Jack finished the soup and sat there uncomfortably for a moment, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. "Would you like some more?" Elena asked when she noticed he was done.
"No, thank you," he replied. The soup was already doing its work; he felt better than he had in months. But after six months of prison food, what he had just eaten was a huge meal.
Irina finished her food, then went to the fireplace and put a few logs on from the large pile there. "We need more wood," she said to no one in particular, before putting a coat on and leaving the building.
Jack watched as Elena at Katya looked at each other with expressions of concern. "So which one of us is going to talk to her?" Elena said after a moment.
Katya raised her eyebrows. "You've had a year and a half to knock some sense into her. Let me try." Moments later she, too, was out the door.
"It's been over two years," Jack said, confused.
Elena glanced at him, then looked at Sydney. "Are you done, Sydney?" Sydney nodded. "Good. Why don't you take a book and go read in the bedroom?" Sydney frowned and looked between Jack and Elena, clearly sensing that she was being sent away so the adults could talk. Elena sighed. "Sydney, don't test my patience," she said firmly. With a look that was only a bit pouty, Sydney retrieved a book from the couch and went into the bedroom.
Elena collected the dishes from the table and went over to the sink. "After Irina returned from America, the KGB kept her for debriefing for eight months," she said as she began to wash the dishes. "When they finally finished with her, she was...well, she looked a lot like you do now. Far too thin, pale...I don't think she said more than ten words the first week she was home."
Jack suddenly felt a bit disoriented again; he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. He'd always thought that if Laura had survived, she would have received nothing but accolades from the KGB. "They sent her to prison?"
"'Re-education,'" Elena said bitterly. "Tell me, when she was with you, was she a heavy sleeper?"
Jack's lips turned up slightly. "Like the dead," he said, remembering the time in Los Angeles that Laura had, in fact, slept through an earthquake. True, it had only been a minor one, but they'd laughed about it for weeks.
"She's barely slept at all since she came back. And the slightest thing will wake her up." Elena finished washing the dishes and came to sit across from Jack. "I was shocked when I went into the bedroom earlier and she didn't wake up. And she only sleeps about half an hour at a time." She paused and looked down at her hands. "When I said earlier that she loves you...she didn't tell me that. In fact, when I asked her, she denied it. I don't think she can even admit it to herself, anymore. But I can tell, when she talks about you, when she looks at Sydney. She was devastated when she thought you were dead, but she wouldn't let herself grieve."
Jack found an interesting spot on the wall to look at so he wouldn't have to meet Elena's eyes. The worst thing, the hardest thing for him to accept when he'd learned the truth, was the idea that his wife had never loved him. That she had lied to him, stolen secrets, even killed—he could deal with that. He did all of those things for his own country. But he hated himself for not seeing through her, for loving her so much and never realizing that she didn't love him back. He had searched through his memories countless times, looking for the signs that she didn't love him, and hadn't found them; he could only conclude that he had been so blinded by his love for her that he didn't notice them. Now Elena was saying that she had loved him, did love him—that he hadn't seen those signs because they weren't there. But it couldn't be true—if she did love him, if she'd seen him as something other than the enemy, how could she have left and destroyed their family?
He'd need some time to sort all of this out, Jack decided. He stood up from the table and was pleased to find that he felt much better; he thought he might actually make it across the room without help. "I'm going to go check on Sydney," he said, and Elena nodded. He needed to see his daughter, to confirm once again that she really was alive and well.
Sydney glanced up from her perch on the bed when he entered, then went back to her book. Jack sat in the chair by the bed and just watched her for several minutes. Then she said, without looking up from her book, "You were only supposed to be gone for a week." Her tone was accusing.
Jack sighed. He could hardly tell his eight-year-old daughter that he'd been imprisoned and tortured by the people her mother worked for because he worked for their enemy. "Sydney, I never wanted to be gone for so long. Every single day, I thought about you and wanted to come home."
Sydney put her book down and looked up at him. "Why are you and Mama mad at each other? Is one of you going to go away again?"
The first question was another he couldn't possibly answer in a way that Sydney would understand. The answer to the second question was almost certainly yes, which wasn't what Sydney would want to hear. Sydney continued to look at him with a frightened, vulnerable expression, though, and he knew he had to tell her something. "Sydney, your mother and I...it's hard to explain, sweetheart. But we're going to do our very best to make sure you're happy, no matter how things turn out."
"Do you still love her, Daddy?" Jack stared at his daughter in shock. "She still loves you, and she misses you. It makes her sad when I talk about you. Please don't go away again, Daddy, and don't let Mama go away again either." A tear escaped her eye and made its way down her cheek.
"Oh, Sydney." Jack stood and pulled her into his arms. "I promise you, sweetheart, somehow we're going to make it all right."
Jack looked around at the room that Irina helped him into. It was much larger than the tiny bedroom; at one end was a fireplace, another double bed, and a couch, while the other end had a table and chairs, a sink, and what looked like a wood-burning stove. Sydney was sitting at the table; she looked up when they entered and watched him warily. Elena stood by the stove with another woman who had to be Katya. She didn't resemble Irina quite as much as Elena did, but the family resemblance was still evident.
Jack was soon seated at the table next to Sydney, and bowls of potato soup were served in silence. Jack ate slowly while trying to organize his thoughts and emotions into something that made sense. How should he react to all this? Think tactically, he told himself.
Elena had said that Sydney had been in Russia for six months; the fact that she could apparently speak Russian with relative ease backed that up. He looked over at his daughter. Her hair was a good four inches longer than it had been when he'd last seen her, and was bound in two neat pigtails. She looked healthy, clean, and well fed, she didn't seem unhappy, and the only person in the room that she seemed to be uncomfortable around was him. All the evidence, therefore, said that Irina had been taking good care of her. Had that not been the case, Jack's first goal would have been to find a way to get away with his daughter.
As it was, though, escape was out of the question, at least for now. He was physically weak, both from the drugs and from his time in prison, and Sydney would no doubt resist if he attempted to take her from her mother. He needed to find out what the sisters wanted with him.
Jack finished the soup and sat there uncomfortably for a moment, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. "Would you like some more?" Elena asked when she noticed he was done.
"No, thank you," he replied. The soup was already doing its work; he felt better than he had in months. But after six months of prison food, what he had just eaten was a huge meal.
Irina finished her food, then went to the fireplace and put a few logs on from the large pile there. "We need more wood," she said to no one in particular, before putting a coat on and leaving the building.
Jack watched as Elena at Katya looked at each other with expressions of concern. "So which one of us is going to talk to her?" Elena said after a moment.
Katya raised her eyebrows. "You've had a year and a half to knock some sense into her. Let me try." Moments later she, too, was out the door.
"It's been over two years," Jack said, confused.
Elena glanced at him, then looked at Sydney. "Are you done, Sydney?" Sydney nodded. "Good. Why don't you take a book and go read in the bedroom?" Sydney frowned and looked between Jack and Elena, clearly sensing that she was being sent away so the adults could talk. Elena sighed. "Sydney, don't test my patience," she said firmly. With a look that was only a bit pouty, Sydney retrieved a book from the couch and went into the bedroom.
Elena collected the dishes from the table and went over to the sink. "After Irina returned from America, the KGB kept her for debriefing for eight months," she said as she began to wash the dishes. "When they finally finished with her, she was...well, she looked a lot like you do now. Far too thin, pale...I don't think she said more than ten words the first week she was home."
Jack suddenly felt a bit disoriented again; he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. He'd always thought that if Laura had survived, she would have received nothing but accolades from the KGB. "They sent her to prison?"
"'Re-education,'" Elena said bitterly. "Tell me, when she was with you, was she a heavy sleeper?"
Jack's lips turned up slightly. "Like the dead," he said, remembering the time in Los Angeles that Laura had, in fact, slept through an earthquake. True, it had only been a minor one, but they'd laughed about it for weeks.
"She's barely slept at all since she came back. And the slightest thing will wake her up." Elena finished washing the dishes and came to sit across from Jack. "I was shocked when I went into the bedroom earlier and she didn't wake up. And she only sleeps about half an hour at a time." She paused and looked down at her hands. "When I said earlier that she loves you...she didn't tell me that. In fact, when I asked her, she denied it. I don't think she can even admit it to herself, anymore. But I can tell, when she talks about you, when she looks at Sydney. She was devastated when she thought you were dead, but she wouldn't let herself grieve."
Jack found an interesting spot on the wall to look at so he wouldn't have to meet Elena's eyes. The worst thing, the hardest thing for him to accept when he'd learned the truth, was the idea that his wife had never loved him. That she had lied to him, stolen secrets, even killed—he could deal with that. He did all of those things for his own country. But he hated himself for not seeing through her, for loving her so much and never realizing that she didn't love him back. He had searched through his memories countless times, looking for the signs that she didn't love him, and hadn't found them; he could only conclude that he had been so blinded by his love for her that he didn't notice them. Now Elena was saying that she had loved him, did love him—that he hadn't seen those signs because they weren't there. But it couldn't be true—if she did love him, if she'd seen him as something other than the enemy, how could she have left and destroyed their family?
He'd need some time to sort all of this out, Jack decided. He stood up from the table and was pleased to find that he felt much better; he thought he might actually make it across the room without help. "I'm going to go check on Sydney," he said, and Elena nodded. He needed to see his daughter, to confirm once again that she really was alive and well.
Sydney glanced up from her perch on the bed when he entered, then went back to her book. Jack sat in the chair by the bed and just watched her for several minutes. Then she said, without looking up from her book, "You were only supposed to be gone for a week." Her tone was accusing.
Jack sighed. He could hardly tell his eight-year-old daughter that he'd been imprisoned and tortured by the people her mother worked for because he worked for their enemy. "Sydney, I never wanted to be gone for so long. Every single day, I thought about you and wanted to come home."
Sydney put her book down and looked up at him. "Why are you and Mama mad at each other? Is one of you going to go away again?"
The first question was another he couldn't possibly answer in a way that Sydney would understand. The answer to the second question was almost certainly yes, which wasn't what Sydney would want to hear. Sydney continued to look at him with a frightened, vulnerable expression, though, and he knew he had to tell her something. "Sydney, your mother and I...it's hard to explain, sweetheart. But we're going to do our very best to make sure you're happy, no matter how things turn out."
"Do you still love her, Daddy?" Jack stared at his daughter in shock. "She still loves you, and she misses you. It makes her sad when I talk about you. Please don't go away again, Daddy, and don't let Mama go away again either." A tear escaped her eye and made its way down her cheek.
"Oh, Sydney." Jack stood and pulled her into his arms. "I promise you, sweetheart, somehow we're going to make it all right."