Chapter Two
Title: True Lies
Author: Puts hand up. Yes me! Aeria, Doona, donna__rose@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Please Read and Review
Summary: Jack and Irina have a chat
Disclaimer: Duh, not mine, Wish they were.
A/N: Yes, I know stupid to try to write a character no one can work out, but I want to try, because I'm bored. So please hate it, love it whatever. I'm not sure I have the characters right, so if you have any suggestions, tell me. Okay, thank you thank you for the reviews, it's the only reason I'm still writing. This is a short chapter, but if I get reviews quickly, I'll start writing and possibly have the next chapter up in two hours.
Surprisingly he didn't resist, his voice was still slightly dull but Irina felt the edges being torn away and the passion hissing out; "I'll tell you what scares me Irina. The possibility that a relationship with Agent Vaughn would lead to the end of her career as a double agent, not to mention the end of her life and the take down of SD-6 and the Alliance." Irina inclined her head slightly to the left and let a soft murmur of agreement escape her lips. "I don't like the idea of a relationship with her handler because it wouldn't be normal, her relationships, the one thing left in her life that is still, at least superficially, normal, would suddenly become complex, unallowed and abnormal."
Irina sat back a bit in her chair, stretching her fingers against the cold surface. She cocked her head and looked at Jack, her eyebrows curved into a look of disbelief. "No, no, there's more to it than that. What aren't you telling me?"
It was eerie how persuasive she could be, the idea of spilling everything on the floor in the hope that she could piece the impossible puzzle together for him was almost ... seductive. It was unlikely that she was ever going to be released, and somehow she was appearing trustworthy. Jack shook his head like a wet dog trying to get the water out from between his ears. "No, the fact that she could be killed, that this kind of love," he cleared his throat, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I don't want her pursuing a relationship in an already overly emotional work place. I'm her father and that's my view."
"But I'm her mother and I don't agree." She paused. Jack didn't answer waiting as Irina watched him intently across the table and through the glass. He slowly closed his mouth, clamping his lips down and waited for her to say something, anything in response.
She stood up, crossing her arms as though she was cold. Irina wandered around the room pretending to admire the brick work, her bed, the ground, the ceiling that was up high enough that she would never be able to get to the single light. 'He's quite nice, you know. Sharp mind, quick, gets what he wants, gets results. Doesn't stuff around." She stopped waiting to see if he would disagree with what she knew to be true. "He has a good sense of humour." She stopped knowing he would cut across her if she didn't give him time to speak.
"People in his line of work shouldn't have a sense of humour, ever. It could cause the deaths of many people." Jack was grasping at straws. Irina knew that he wanted to win this argument; she also knew that he was yet to tell her his real reason. So she opted to just exhaust everything that he chose to throw at her in his defence.
"I have a sense of humour," she said, "You have a sense of humour and," she rose her voice as she could tell he was about to speak. "Don't you dare deny it. You remember the toaster, you used to be very funny and you were working at the CIA then, you still have your moments, little smart-ased come backs with a twist of fun. You have a quick tongue." Her voice faltered and she grinning, almost. "And we're considered the best spies there are.
"Michael's good looking, far too young for me," she looked around in time to catch Jack smiling, he expression changed when he realised how easily he'd been caught. His features moulding until he was simply glaring back at her rueful smile. "You can't deny that he is quite a babe." Jack smiled again in spite of himself, the whole situation was ironic, he was talking to his daughter's mother as thought Sydney was going out with some Jock that was ten years older than her. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Irina, desperately trying to act as though he should have been.
"Sydney would be nuts not to be attracted to such a handsome young man. He oozes," the word rolled around the room playfully, "sex appeal." She was, by now, purposely forcing her accent into each and every one of her words, she wasn't sure why, but she was, hoping that they would somehow help her to weasel her way through the foggy lies to the heart of the issue.
"Tell me what you're really scared of. Stop making all of this shit up, I'm not buying." Her directness made Jack frown but he figured talking to someone the CIA would soon deem unreliable for information about her own family wouldn't really hurt.
Irina turned from the brick she was watching and stalked back to the glass window. She kicked the chair to the side, not in anger but with an underlying frustration that could have been real or false. None the less, it was definitely passionate. She placed her hands on either side of her body, leaning fully on the brown surface and glared down at Jack with question and frustration mirrored in her brown eyes.
"You don't know?" Jack's voice was at a lower pitch but a higher decibel and somehow fuller, like she remembered it. "I am scared, out of my wits sometimes, for Sydney. What if it doesn't last, what if he cheats on her," Irina's eyes lit up with realisation, the brown glinting into a lighter bronze but Jack didn't notice, still talking. "What if he gets killed or lost or he just disappears for no real reason?"
She picked her chair back up and placed it in front of the window. Softly, her voice came out as she slid back down into a slumped position, almost in a whisper, her words a statement not a question, "What if he's a double agent for someone else? What if he fakes his own death and disappears leaving her wondering for years until the CIA finally work it out, he wasn't CIA and he wasn't really in love."
Title: True Lies
Author: Puts hand up. Yes me! Aeria, Doona, donna__rose@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Please Read and Review
Summary: Jack and Irina have a chat
Disclaimer: Duh, not mine, Wish they were.
A/N: Yes, I know stupid to try to write a character no one can work out, but I want to try, because I'm bored. So please hate it, love it whatever. I'm not sure I have the characters right, so if you have any suggestions, tell me. Okay, thank you thank you for the reviews, it's the only reason I'm still writing. This is a short chapter, but if I get reviews quickly, I'll start writing and possibly have the next chapter up in two hours.
Surprisingly he didn't resist, his voice was still slightly dull but Irina felt the edges being torn away and the passion hissing out; "I'll tell you what scares me Irina. The possibility that a relationship with Agent Vaughn would lead to the end of her career as a double agent, not to mention the end of her life and the take down of SD-6 and the Alliance." Irina inclined her head slightly to the left and let a soft murmur of agreement escape her lips. "I don't like the idea of a relationship with her handler because it wouldn't be normal, her relationships, the one thing left in her life that is still, at least superficially, normal, would suddenly become complex, unallowed and abnormal."
Irina sat back a bit in her chair, stretching her fingers against the cold surface. She cocked her head and looked at Jack, her eyebrows curved into a look of disbelief. "No, no, there's more to it than that. What aren't you telling me?"
It was eerie how persuasive she could be, the idea of spilling everything on the floor in the hope that she could piece the impossible puzzle together for him was almost ... seductive. It was unlikely that she was ever going to be released, and somehow she was appearing trustworthy. Jack shook his head like a wet dog trying to get the water out from between his ears. "No, the fact that she could be killed, that this kind of love," he cleared his throat, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I don't want her pursuing a relationship in an already overly emotional work place. I'm her father and that's my view."
"But I'm her mother and I don't agree." She paused. Jack didn't answer waiting as Irina watched him intently across the table and through the glass. He slowly closed his mouth, clamping his lips down and waited for her to say something, anything in response.
She stood up, crossing her arms as though she was cold. Irina wandered around the room pretending to admire the brick work, her bed, the ground, the ceiling that was up high enough that she would never be able to get to the single light. 'He's quite nice, you know. Sharp mind, quick, gets what he wants, gets results. Doesn't stuff around." She stopped waiting to see if he would disagree with what she knew to be true. "He has a good sense of humour." She stopped knowing he would cut across her if she didn't give him time to speak.
"People in his line of work shouldn't have a sense of humour, ever. It could cause the deaths of many people." Jack was grasping at straws. Irina knew that he wanted to win this argument; she also knew that he was yet to tell her his real reason. So she opted to just exhaust everything that he chose to throw at her in his defence.
"I have a sense of humour," she said, "You have a sense of humour and," she rose her voice as she could tell he was about to speak. "Don't you dare deny it. You remember the toaster, you used to be very funny and you were working at the CIA then, you still have your moments, little smart-ased come backs with a twist of fun. You have a quick tongue." Her voice faltered and she grinning, almost. "And we're considered the best spies there are.
"Michael's good looking, far too young for me," she looked around in time to catch Jack smiling, he expression changed when he realised how easily he'd been caught. His features moulding until he was simply glaring back at her rueful smile. "You can't deny that he is quite a babe." Jack smiled again in spite of himself, the whole situation was ironic, he was talking to his daughter's mother as thought Sydney was going out with some Jock that was ten years older than her. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Irina, desperately trying to act as though he should have been.
"Sydney would be nuts not to be attracted to such a handsome young man. He oozes," the word rolled around the room playfully, "sex appeal." She was, by now, purposely forcing her accent into each and every one of her words, she wasn't sure why, but she was, hoping that they would somehow help her to weasel her way through the foggy lies to the heart of the issue.
"Tell me what you're really scared of. Stop making all of this shit up, I'm not buying." Her directness made Jack frown but he figured talking to someone the CIA would soon deem unreliable for information about her own family wouldn't really hurt.
Irina turned from the brick she was watching and stalked back to the glass window. She kicked the chair to the side, not in anger but with an underlying frustration that could have been real or false. None the less, it was definitely passionate. She placed her hands on either side of her body, leaning fully on the brown surface and glared down at Jack with question and frustration mirrored in her brown eyes.
"You don't know?" Jack's voice was at a lower pitch but a higher decibel and somehow fuller, like she remembered it. "I am scared, out of my wits sometimes, for Sydney. What if it doesn't last, what if he cheats on her," Irina's eyes lit up with realisation, the brown glinting into a lighter bronze but Jack didn't notice, still talking. "What if he gets killed or lost or he just disappears for no real reason?"
She picked her chair back up and placed it in front of the window. Softly, her voice came out as she slid back down into a slumped position, almost in a whisper, her words a statement not a question, "What if he's a double agent for someone else? What if he fakes his own death and disappears leaving her wondering for years until the CIA finally work it out, he wasn't CIA and he wasn't really in love."