Chapter 32
Sydney and Tatiana came down from the attic with an armful of photo albums; Jack and Irina quickly cleared away Rambaldi to make room. The four of them spent a pleasant couple of hours looking at pictures and telling stories from both Sydney's and Tatiana's childhoods. No one was really in the mood for more Rambaldi after that, so they headed into the living room and found a movie to watch on television. After a couple of movies, complete with copious amounts of snack foods, they all agreed that it was time for bed.
A little while later, Irina emerged from the shower to find Jack in bed, looking through one of the photo albums again. She climbed in bed beside him and saw that it was the album that covered the first few weeks of Sydney's life. "You looked so happy," Jack said.
"I was," Irina answered simply. She'd spent most of her life hoping that her sister had been wrong, that she'd never have children; she was convinced that she'd be a bad mother. And the truth was that she was far from the world's best mother—but when Sydney was born, it had been impossible not to fall in love with the tiny little person she had made—that she and Jack had made together.
"Even knowing you would have to leave her one day?"
"I was young, still too idealistic. At that point, I was convinced I could find some way to stay forever." She chuckled. "Later, when I finally accepted that I had to leave, I was still glad that I'd had her. She was...something real between us. Everything else was steeped in lies, stained with an alias. But Sydney...I really was her mother. The lies didn't touch her."
Jack put his arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against her. "I wish I'd known...realized...for a long time, I didn't think you loved her, thought that was a lie too."
"I wish you could have known the truth, Jack. I thought about telling you everything, especially at the end when extraction was imminent. But I couldn't see any way to do that and ensure that you and Sydney would be safe from the KGB. And...well, I didn't think you'd react well."
"I've thought about that," Jack said. "I'd like to think that I would have taken the news calmly, been understanding...but I probably wouldn't have. Even if I had come to the conclusion that I loved you anyway, it would probably have been after I turned you in to the CIA."
Irina nodded. "That's pretty much what I thought." She yawned. "So, should we go to sleep, or should we make some noise and annoy the girls?"
Jack slipped a hand under her tank top. "What do you think? We missed the chance to embarrass them when they were teenagers; we've got a lot of lost time to make up."
"Mmm. I agree," Irina said. She captured his mouth in a deep kiss.
***
iShe sat in a chair, hands and feet shackled to the legs. A shadowy figure entered and unlocked the chains binding her right wrist. She sat immobile, paralyzed, as her right arm was strapped to a steel table with straps across her forearm and hand. As always, she knew what was going to happen; as always, she was helpless to stop it.
A voice spoke from behind her. "I am sorry, my dear. I wish this weren't necessary." She started, recognizing the voice that until now had always been a mystery.
The faceless figure beside her cleaned her wrist with alcohol, used a marker to draw a line across her wrist, and then raised a meat cleaver, sharpened and gleaming. She couldn't take her eyes off it as it hung poised in the air for an impossibly long moment. Then it came down, hitting flesh and bone with a sickening thud, and her world exploded./i
Irina sat up in bed, screaming.
Sydney and Tatiana came down from the attic with an armful of photo albums; Jack and Irina quickly cleared away Rambaldi to make room. The four of them spent a pleasant couple of hours looking at pictures and telling stories from both Sydney's and Tatiana's childhoods. No one was really in the mood for more Rambaldi after that, so they headed into the living room and found a movie to watch on television. After a couple of movies, complete with copious amounts of snack foods, they all agreed that it was time for bed.
A little while later, Irina emerged from the shower to find Jack in bed, looking through one of the photo albums again. She climbed in bed beside him and saw that it was the album that covered the first few weeks of Sydney's life. "You looked so happy," Jack said.
"I was," Irina answered simply. She'd spent most of her life hoping that her sister had been wrong, that she'd never have children; she was convinced that she'd be a bad mother. And the truth was that she was far from the world's best mother—but when Sydney was born, it had been impossible not to fall in love with the tiny little person she had made—that she and Jack had made together.
"Even knowing you would have to leave her one day?"
"I was young, still too idealistic. At that point, I was convinced I could find some way to stay forever." She chuckled. "Later, when I finally accepted that I had to leave, I was still glad that I'd had her. She was...something real between us. Everything else was steeped in lies, stained with an alias. But Sydney...I really was her mother. The lies didn't touch her."
Jack put his arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against her. "I wish I'd known...realized...for a long time, I didn't think you loved her, thought that was a lie too."
"I wish you could have known the truth, Jack. I thought about telling you everything, especially at the end when extraction was imminent. But I couldn't see any way to do that and ensure that you and Sydney would be safe from the KGB. And...well, I didn't think you'd react well."
"I've thought about that," Jack said. "I'd like to think that I would have taken the news calmly, been understanding...but I probably wouldn't have. Even if I had come to the conclusion that I loved you anyway, it would probably have been after I turned you in to the CIA."
Irina nodded. "That's pretty much what I thought." She yawned. "So, should we go to sleep, or should we make some noise and annoy the girls?"
Jack slipped a hand under her tank top. "What do you think? We missed the chance to embarrass them when they were teenagers; we've got a lot of lost time to make up."
"Mmm. I agree," Irina said. She captured his mouth in a deep kiss.
***
iShe sat in a chair, hands and feet shackled to the legs. A shadowy figure entered and unlocked the chains binding her right wrist. She sat immobile, paralyzed, as her right arm was strapped to a steel table with straps across her forearm and hand. As always, she knew what was going to happen; as always, she was helpless to stop it.
A voice spoke from behind her. "I am sorry, my dear. I wish this weren't necessary." She started, recognizing the voice that until now had always been a mystery.
The faceless figure beside her cleaned her wrist with alcohol, used a marker to draw a line across her wrist, and then raised a meat cleaver, sharpened and gleaming. She couldn't take her eyes off it as it hung poised in the air for an impossibly long moment. Then it came down, hitting flesh and bone with a sickening thud, and her world exploded./i
Irina sat up in bed, screaming.