Chapter 45
She slammed on the breaks, the tires squealing to a halt beneath them. Scrambling across the seat, she looked at Jack, trying to see how bad the damage was. He wasn't unconscious but his eyes were shut and his left hand had lifted to grasp at the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Irina looked around at the blood. There was a lot, but not enough to be critical. Still, she was worried.
Tentatively she placed her hand on his cheek, feeling his skin, cold and clammy. His eyes shot open at the skin on skin contact and he smiled at her faintly, capable of loving her for the tenderness with which she ran her thumb over his lips.
"I have to take a look the wound," she told him, her voice shaky.
Knowing she was right, he moved his hand away, watching her as she leaned in rather than watch the hole in his shoulder. Typically, her face revealed nothing, her full lips pursed and her eyelashes obscuring her brown eyes. Moving slowly, her fingers went to the top of his arm and cautiously pulled at the material. He gasped but she didn't stop.
When she finally had enough to the shredded cotton out of the way she took a better look. The wound looked deep and there was little clotting blood, most was still fresh and running.
"I have to look at the back of your shoulder." He grunted in acknowledgment and bit down on his lip as she helped him move far enough to his left that she could see where the bullet had hopefully exited. At her sigh, apparently of relief, he moved back to slumping against the chair.
"You were lucky," he didn't feel it, "Flesh wound, straight through. If we could just get it bandaged, we won't have any problems."
Jack nodded, suspecting she was simplifying the situation but relieved that it wasn't too serious. He'd already known that the bone hadn't been broken but the pain and blood were telling him it wasn't just a skimming of his arm either.
Irina was watching him now, apparently over her original worry, she smiled, "You're going to have to lose the shirt."
He looked at her, slightly bewildered that she'd choose not to make a pass at him. For every moment that passed her grin grew larger, she basked in this embarrassment until he caught on, putting two and two together and recognizing what she meant. "Ah," he replied and raised his working arm to fumble with the buttons. Two minutes and three buttons later, he could sense the woman to his left, smiling broadly and having fun at his expense. He finally gave up. Looking to her with a glare about his features.
She just smirked at him, clicking her tongue and leaning over to make quick work of the remaining buttons and gently slip the shirt from his shoulders. She smiled at him serenely, doing her absolute best no to let her eyes wander. Taking the shirt, she ripped the right, blood-soaked sleeve and carefully shredded the remaining material into strips.
It took five minutes of stinging pain and difficult fumbling but eventually the wound was wrapped in the dirty shirt. As long as it stemmed the bleeding and didn't cause too bad an infection, they would be fine from there on.
Now that that had been dealt with, Irina struggled back into the driver's seat and checked the fuel gauge. They had an almost full tank and she'd noticed a map book 'The Melways' sticking out from under the seat. She pulled it out, looking to Jack every few seconds who would only look back at her, an unreadable look in his eyes.
Working out a rough location wasn't too hard, several of the maps were dog- eared and they all linked up. She was surprised to find that they weren't actually that far from civilization.
Explaining the situation to Jack, she pointed out their full tank, the plan that they drive south-east until they came to a road and then take it from there. She'd found a mobile phone and she planned on calling Sydney once they were driving again. Jack nodded and told her to find the closest airport.
"Already have," she answered back, opening the maps up again to an airport that, while smaller than the one from which they had came, still supported international jets.
"Right," Jack said, "I'm sure you can manage to get us out of here." She nodded and started the engine up, turning to her left slightly and continuing through the bushland.
A few moments later when she'd established what appeared to be an easy stretch of bush ahead, at least for the time being, she picked up the phone and dialed the hotel which promptly put her through to Sydney's suite, apparently all calls were to be let through without question.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was groggy and a whisper but there was no mistaking it as Agent Vaughn. "Michael, where's Sydney?"
"Sydney?" he obviously hadn't woken up yet. If Irina was right he'd probably only just gotten to sleep when she'd rang, she wondered what time it was outside. Late afternoon perhaps. He paused and she let the information sink in. His revelation came a second later, "Irina?"
"Yes," a simplistic answer but one that served its purpose.
"My God. Where's Jack? Are you okay? What happened to you?" the questions gushed out.
She smiled, it was nice to know he cared, "Jack's here, he's been hit, flesh wound only but there's quite a bit of blood. Other than that we're fine. It's a long story." She answered each question systematically.
He seemed to have pulled himself together by this stage and was able to answer the question, "She's just nodded off to sleep. We've been worried as hell. No one had a clue where you were."
She understood but this was not the time, nor the place to discuss Cameron. "Look, Michael, we've got the Dury Box, but if the Australian Authorities find out what we've been up to we won't be leaving the country for a few weeks. I need you to get a private jet to Avalon airport in six hours. We'll meet you there in four."
She knew what he was going to ask even before she'd finished speaking, "Where the hell am I supposed to get a private jet from? And in six hours? It can't be done, especially not without alerting the Australian officials that something's up."
She smiled, looking at Jack who was eyeing her with a certain mixture of distaste and admiration. "I know someone who knows someone, and the first someone owes me a favor. Don't talk just write," she knew he was about to interrupt, "I need you to call this number," she quoted it to him, "Ask for Danny, reference 6-4-7 and tell him exactly what you need and when."
There was pause on the other end and she wondered whether he'd be capable of smashing so many protocols at once. "You're sure this will work?"
"Yeah, trust me. I'll call back in an hour to make sure everything is in place. Until then..." She hung up the phone before he had the chance to argue.
Back at the hotel suite, Vaughn gently replaced the phone. He and Sydney had finally collapsed from the exhaustion only a couple of hours before, holding each other close on the bed until they both succumbed to sleep.
Only Vaughn had been woken by the phone and on the third ring he'd answered. The hotel receptionist had informed him he had a call and he'd accepted, expecting the CIA or an Australian contact. The voice and conversation that had followed could not have been predicted.
Now, he had to smile, trust the two of them to be able to get themselves out of trouble. He looked forward to hearing just what had happened, not to mention how they had managed to find the Dury Box during their own kidnapping.
He moved back to the bed and bent over it, gently shaking Sydney until she woke, her eyes wide as she suspected bad news. He smiled at her reassuringly and waited patiently for her to come fully to her senses. Once she had, he quickly explained the situation to her, watching her as the smile grew and she finally collapsed onto him in a hug as she was allowed to stop worrying at last.
She regained her control and for a moment, it appeared as though she was thinking the same thing he had only minutes before. And momentarily she did pondered just what had happened, but then she was all business. She grabbed the phone and called the number Irina had given to Michael.
Jack had suspected she would 'know someone who knew someone'. And he couldn't really blame her, she was absolutely right, the Australian authorities were going to want a lot of questions answered and they were not going to want them answered in the States.
"You need to get some rest," Irina told him. "It's only a bullet; if it doesn't bleed it makes no difference if you're asleep or awake."
She was right, but something was eating at him. They were meeting Sydney and Vaughn at the airport in less than four hours. Then they were on a plane for fifteen and then they were back. He had, arguably less than twenty four hours until Irina would be locked up again and while he was acknowledging it he could almost smell the fear on her breath as she thought about it.
He was sure that she would have run right there and then had she not known it would upset him and Sydney so much. To her, being stuck in a single cell indefinitely was the worst kind of torture.
Hope you guys enjoyed it, heaps more where that came from. Reviews please
She slammed on the breaks, the tires squealing to a halt beneath them. Scrambling across the seat, she looked at Jack, trying to see how bad the damage was. He wasn't unconscious but his eyes were shut and his left hand had lifted to grasp at the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Irina looked around at the blood. There was a lot, but not enough to be critical. Still, she was worried.
Tentatively she placed her hand on his cheek, feeling his skin, cold and clammy. His eyes shot open at the skin on skin contact and he smiled at her faintly, capable of loving her for the tenderness with which she ran her thumb over his lips.
"I have to take a look the wound," she told him, her voice shaky.
Knowing she was right, he moved his hand away, watching her as she leaned in rather than watch the hole in his shoulder. Typically, her face revealed nothing, her full lips pursed and her eyelashes obscuring her brown eyes. Moving slowly, her fingers went to the top of his arm and cautiously pulled at the material. He gasped but she didn't stop.
When she finally had enough to the shredded cotton out of the way she took a better look. The wound looked deep and there was little clotting blood, most was still fresh and running.
"I have to look at the back of your shoulder." He grunted in acknowledgment and bit down on his lip as she helped him move far enough to his left that she could see where the bullet had hopefully exited. At her sigh, apparently of relief, he moved back to slumping against the chair.
"You were lucky," he didn't feel it, "Flesh wound, straight through. If we could just get it bandaged, we won't have any problems."
Jack nodded, suspecting she was simplifying the situation but relieved that it wasn't too serious. He'd already known that the bone hadn't been broken but the pain and blood were telling him it wasn't just a skimming of his arm either.
Irina was watching him now, apparently over her original worry, she smiled, "You're going to have to lose the shirt."
He looked at her, slightly bewildered that she'd choose not to make a pass at him. For every moment that passed her grin grew larger, she basked in this embarrassment until he caught on, putting two and two together and recognizing what she meant. "Ah," he replied and raised his working arm to fumble with the buttons. Two minutes and three buttons later, he could sense the woman to his left, smiling broadly and having fun at his expense. He finally gave up. Looking to her with a glare about his features.
She just smirked at him, clicking her tongue and leaning over to make quick work of the remaining buttons and gently slip the shirt from his shoulders. She smiled at him serenely, doing her absolute best no to let her eyes wander. Taking the shirt, she ripped the right, blood-soaked sleeve and carefully shredded the remaining material into strips.
It took five minutes of stinging pain and difficult fumbling but eventually the wound was wrapped in the dirty shirt. As long as it stemmed the bleeding and didn't cause too bad an infection, they would be fine from there on.
Now that that had been dealt with, Irina struggled back into the driver's seat and checked the fuel gauge. They had an almost full tank and she'd noticed a map book 'The Melways' sticking out from under the seat. She pulled it out, looking to Jack every few seconds who would only look back at her, an unreadable look in his eyes.
Working out a rough location wasn't too hard, several of the maps were dog- eared and they all linked up. She was surprised to find that they weren't actually that far from civilization.
Explaining the situation to Jack, she pointed out their full tank, the plan that they drive south-east until they came to a road and then take it from there. She'd found a mobile phone and she planned on calling Sydney once they were driving again. Jack nodded and told her to find the closest airport.
"Already have," she answered back, opening the maps up again to an airport that, while smaller than the one from which they had came, still supported international jets.
"Right," Jack said, "I'm sure you can manage to get us out of here." She nodded and started the engine up, turning to her left slightly and continuing through the bushland.
A few moments later when she'd established what appeared to be an easy stretch of bush ahead, at least for the time being, she picked up the phone and dialed the hotel which promptly put her through to Sydney's suite, apparently all calls were to be let through without question.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was groggy and a whisper but there was no mistaking it as Agent Vaughn. "Michael, where's Sydney?"
"Sydney?" he obviously hadn't woken up yet. If Irina was right he'd probably only just gotten to sleep when she'd rang, she wondered what time it was outside. Late afternoon perhaps. He paused and she let the information sink in. His revelation came a second later, "Irina?"
"Yes," a simplistic answer but one that served its purpose.
"My God. Where's Jack? Are you okay? What happened to you?" the questions gushed out.
She smiled, it was nice to know he cared, "Jack's here, he's been hit, flesh wound only but there's quite a bit of blood. Other than that we're fine. It's a long story." She answered each question systematically.
He seemed to have pulled himself together by this stage and was able to answer the question, "She's just nodded off to sleep. We've been worried as hell. No one had a clue where you were."
She understood but this was not the time, nor the place to discuss Cameron. "Look, Michael, we've got the Dury Box, but if the Australian Authorities find out what we've been up to we won't be leaving the country for a few weeks. I need you to get a private jet to Avalon airport in six hours. We'll meet you there in four."
She knew what he was going to ask even before she'd finished speaking, "Where the hell am I supposed to get a private jet from? And in six hours? It can't be done, especially not without alerting the Australian officials that something's up."
She smiled, looking at Jack who was eyeing her with a certain mixture of distaste and admiration. "I know someone who knows someone, and the first someone owes me a favor. Don't talk just write," she knew he was about to interrupt, "I need you to call this number," she quoted it to him, "Ask for Danny, reference 6-4-7 and tell him exactly what you need and when."
There was pause on the other end and she wondered whether he'd be capable of smashing so many protocols at once. "You're sure this will work?"
"Yeah, trust me. I'll call back in an hour to make sure everything is in place. Until then..." She hung up the phone before he had the chance to argue.
Back at the hotel suite, Vaughn gently replaced the phone. He and Sydney had finally collapsed from the exhaustion only a couple of hours before, holding each other close on the bed until they both succumbed to sleep.
Only Vaughn had been woken by the phone and on the third ring he'd answered. The hotel receptionist had informed him he had a call and he'd accepted, expecting the CIA or an Australian contact. The voice and conversation that had followed could not have been predicted.
Now, he had to smile, trust the two of them to be able to get themselves out of trouble. He looked forward to hearing just what had happened, not to mention how they had managed to find the Dury Box during their own kidnapping.
He moved back to the bed and bent over it, gently shaking Sydney until she woke, her eyes wide as she suspected bad news. He smiled at her reassuringly and waited patiently for her to come fully to her senses. Once she had, he quickly explained the situation to her, watching her as the smile grew and she finally collapsed onto him in a hug as she was allowed to stop worrying at last.
She regained her control and for a moment, it appeared as though she was thinking the same thing he had only minutes before. And momentarily she did pondered just what had happened, but then she was all business. She grabbed the phone and called the number Irina had given to Michael.
Jack had suspected she would 'know someone who knew someone'. And he couldn't really blame her, she was absolutely right, the Australian authorities were going to want a lot of questions answered and they were not going to want them answered in the States.
"You need to get some rest," Irina told him. "It's only a bullet; if it doesn't bleed it makes no difference if you're asleep or awake."
She was right, but something was eating at him. They were meeting Sydney and Vaughn at the airport in less than four hours. Then they were on a plane for fifteen and then they were back. He had, arguably less than twenty four hours until Irina would be locked up again and while he was acknowledging it he could almost smell the fear on her breath as she thought about it.
He was sure that she would have run right there and then had she not known it would upset him and Sydney so much. To her, being stuck in a single cell indefinitely was the worst kind of torture.
Hope you guys enjoyed it, heaps more where that came from. Reviews please