Chapter 46
It was strange to be driving along with someone with whom he had been through so much. Hard to materialize exactly what it felt like but just the knowledge of everything that they'd been through. He'd loved her, while she'd loved her job, they'd had Sydney and to Irina, he'd always have to imagine, she had, at first, been simply a part of what she was told to do. Then she'd ran and Jack had had to face up to life without her. He found out who she really was while she watched him from afar. For so many years.
Sydney had grown up and been dragged into their world of deceit and lies and now, when everything had finally pulled itself together: the fact that Irina had returned, that Jack had finally known who she was and had fallen in love with her in spite, or perhaps because, of it.
Now that they knew each other fully and could admit it, the world was forcing them to return to the living hell that was reality. Was it any better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before? Jack was an expert, it happened over and over, with the same woman, just under different circumstances, and yet he wasn't sure.
He could see her knuckles white on the wheel as they drove through a little country town, just over the speed limit. He wondered if she would run if he told her to and had to shake the idea out of his head. She kept looking at him and it was tearing him apart to know that not once had she looked him in the eye, her eyes only straying to his bandaged arm to make sure it wasn't bleeding through.
Obviously the loss of blood was effecting his thinking because when they pulled into what looked to be a small shopping mall it took him a few moments to realize why.
Irina looked over to him quickly and opened the door as she said, "I'll be back in fifteen minutes. I just need to get some things."
He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously good-natured comment, "How do I know you won't run?" He really wasn't thinking straight.
The look of horror that passed over her face was evident, he didn't think for a minute that she was actually considering it but that didn't mean the fantasy hadn't played itself out before her eyes in the last two hours. "Irina..." he tried to repair the damage but she just gave him a half-hearted smile and tilted her head.
She shut the door and he watched as she hurried towards the big glass doors.
Sydney and Vaughn had quickly packed their things up, filling their cases with the mixture of CIA guns and gadgets and holiday gear. The seams were close to splitting when they finally got them closed, via a combination of Vaughn wrestling with the zipper and Sydney sitting cross-legged on top.
He breathed a sigh of relief as they shut the last one and collapsed to the ground, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. A moment later, Sydney came to stand over him, hands on her hips, looking down with an amused look on her face.
"I have some bad news," she informed him playfully.
His forehead creased and he raised himself up onto his elbows. "What?" he asked.
"My parents didn't think to pack up their stuff before being kidnapped." Sydney grinned as a drawn out groan escaped his lips.
He looked at her to see if she was serious, "There is no way that I'm touching their stuff." Sydney quirked an eyebrow at him as if to ask why. "Hey, if Irina doesn't kill me for messing with their luggage, your dad most definitely will."
He had a point, but it wasn't as though they could just leave it there and Irina had made it perfectly clear over the phone that they wouldn't be meeting them at the hotel, so they had to. "Oh well," she offered him a hand to help him up and he took it begrudgingly.
Irina stood in front of the dirty mirror in the ladies-room of the mall, she looked over her messed up black hair, the dirt marks on her face and the tattered and brown hem of her dress. The woman at the department store had given her several weird looks and even more when she'd pulled out the Platinum credit card and now that she saw herself in all her glory, she understood why. Jack didn't look anywhere as dirty as this, probably because he'd been wearing darker clothes.
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to straighten out the mess but it didn't work. She shook her head, her heart in turmoil. She quickly found a cubicle and got changed into the clothes she'd just purchased. A pair of black, form-fitting jeans, new black underwear and a sheer white shirt. It was still hot outside so she left the black denim jacket off. She completed the contrasting outfit with white boots and emerged to take a look at herself.
She washed her face off and did her best to scrub off the black dirt stains. Finally, she had another shot at fixing her hair into a high plait but soon found a messy ponytail was more likely. She settled for that and emerged into the main shopping area with her bags.
Back at the hotel, Syd and Vaughn had just managed to break into the room using a combination of CIA equipment and doorknob jiggling. Now, at last, they were faced with something they had not expected. Of all people on the face of the planet Earth, Jack and Irina should have been the most organized, obsessively clean people out there, but the room was anything but. Apparently the cleaning staff were also having trouble because, while they had attempted to make the bed, the selection of take out containers and clothes on and around the bed getting in their way, they had quickly given up, the rest of the room, too, had clothing strewn from one end to the other.
How they had managed to make such a mess in so few days was beyond the two people standing, now, just inside the door. "Right," Vaughn said, making a point of looking at Sydney with an 'I told you so' look lodged firmly on his face. "Where do you think we should start?"
Sydney turned to glare at him before making her way into the room and over to two suitcases that sat side by side, open and cluttered with bags from their shopping trip and the souvenirs that they'd needed to buy. "Here would be good place," she told him, turning to see him staring somewhat inadvertently at the room's centerpiece, the bed. "What?" she asked, slightly worried.
She watched as Vaughn walked tentatively over and picked up something that had been obscured from her line of sight by the sheets. He picked up the delicate sheer slip with his forefinger and held it out for her to look at, a pointed look in his eyes. "Your mother has certainly been keeping herself amused."
"You don't think they..." her voice trailed off, her mind not even wanting to think about it. "Forget it," she told him and disappeared quite promptly into the bathroom, feeling more comfortable about dealing with her parent's shampoo and toothbrushes.
They both emerged from the suite fifteen minutes later, the four suitcases sitting beside each other, each one as full as was physically possible. Vaughn had called for help with the bags and a taxi was going to be there to collect them in five minutes. They saw the two young boys heading towards them and Vaughn quickly handed them a twenty dollar note each, happy to spend the CIA's money, and asked them to take the bags down to reception.
Five minutes later they were sitting in the taxi, the bags stuffed in the trunk as the taxi driver informed them that the Avalon Airport was at least two and a half hours away.
Sydney nodded and then turned to Michael. She sighed, "We'll be home soon," she would have expected to have been happy about that, but she didn't feel or sound it.
"Yeah," Vaughn, obviously felt the same, "We will. It'll all be over." He breathed deeply, surprised that he was unhappy to see their trip down under end so quickly. "Get some sleep."
Sydney looked up and smiled at him. She then closed her eyes, her head on his shoulder while his cheek rested on the top of her head, his hand moving up to draw mundane shapes on her back.
Jack had been watching the glass doors like a hawk for over twenty minutes, when she finally emerged he almost didn't recognize her, it was only the confident gait and the enticing curves that caught his eye. She'd changed completely and was, at that moment, placing a new pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes.
She was carrying several bags and as she carefully got into the car, she turned and dumped them in the back seat. She looked at Jack who looked back at her and held her gaze, she was surprised to read the fear and disappointment in his eyes, which, she was sure, was what he was seeing in hers.
In that moment, it became clear to Jack: loving her was the greatest thing he'd ever done, whether or not he lost her again. She leaned over and embraced him, leaning into him as he leant into her. She felt the tears gathering and couldn't let go of him long enough to stop them from falling.
Eventually they pulled apart and she immediately noticed the fresh blood soaking through his bandaged arm, she reached out to touch it cautiously, "I'm sorry." She didn't just mean for reopening the wound.
"Don't be," he answered, "We'll deal with it." He seemed confident, she had no idea why.
She nodded, happy they'd found some middle ground on which to stand. From the one bag she hadn't thrown onto the back seat, Irina pulled out a combination of bandages and disinfectant. She carefully peeled the shirt strips away from his arm and, without allowing him to prepare for the pain, used a cloth to swab the wound with the strong chemical. She heard the hiss that escaped his lips at the undoubtedly sharp pain that this was causing but it needed to be done. She continued until his skin was red and white, all traces of clotted blood and dirt erased. Of course now the blood was flowing again and she was quick to heavily bandage it back up, this time with proper sterile material.
Leaning back to the bags, she pulled out a couple of shirts, both dark in color. She held them up and, picking the black one, Jack quickly put it on, with, of course, a little help from Irina. Again she turned back to the chair, this time, she pulled out a couple of bottles of water and an assortment of cold meats, breads and fruits, everything a hungry spy could ask for, she informed him.
On first sight of the food, he suddenly realized just how long it had been since he'd last eaten, already it was beginning to grow dark outside and the picnic was just asking to be eaten. He grinned, she'd remembered everything, even, he noted on seeing the box, a new pair of shoes.
It was strange to be driving along with someone with whom he had been through so much. Hard to materialize exactly what it felt like but just the knowledge of everything that they'd been through. He'd loved her, while she'd loved her job, they'd had Sydney and to Irina, he'd always have to imagine, she had, at first, been simply a part of what she was told to do. Then she'd ran and Jack had had to face up to life without her. He found out who she really was while she watched him from afar. For so many years.
Sydney had grown up and been dragged into their world of deceit and lies and now, when everything had finally pulled itself together: the fact that Irina had returned, that Jack had finally known who she was and had fallen in love with her in spite, or perhaps because, of it.
Now that they knew each other fully and could admit it, the world was forcing them to return to the living hell that was reality. Was it any better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before? Jack was an expert, it happened over and over, with the same woman, just under different circumstances, and yet he wasn't sure.
He could see her knuckles white on the wheel as they drove through a little country town, just over the speed limit. He wondered if she would run if he told her to and had to shake the idea out of his head. She kept looking at him and it was tearing him apart to know that not once had she looked him in the eye, her eyes only straying to his bandaged arm to make sure it wasn't bleeding through.
Obviously the loss of blood was effecting his thinking because when they pulled into what looked to be a small shopping mall it took him a few moments to realize why.
Irina looked over to him quickly and opened the door as she said, "I'll be back in fifteen minutes. I just need to get some things."
He smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously good-natured comment, "How do I know you won't run?" He really wasn't thinking straight.
The look of horror that passed over her face was evident, he didn't think for a minute that she was actually considering it but that didn't mean the fantasy hadn't played itself out before her eyes in the last two hours. "Irina..." he tried to repair the damage but she just gave him a half-hearted smile and tilted her head.
She shut the door and he watched as she hurried towards the big glass doors.
Sydney and Vaughn had quickly packed their things up, filling their cases with the mixture of CIA guns and gadgets and holiday gear. The seams were close to splitting when they finally got them closed, via a combination of Vaughn wrestling with the zipper and Sydney sitting cross-legged on top.
He breathed a sigh of relief as they shut the last one and collapsed to the ground, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. A moment later, Sydney came to stand over him, hands on her hips, looking down with an amused look on her face.
"I have some bad news," she informed him playfully.
His forehead creased and he raised himself up onto his elbows. "What?" he asked.
"My parents didn't think to pack up their stuff before being kidnapped." Sydney grinned as a drawn out groan escaped his lips.
He looked at her to see if she was serious, "There is no way that I'm touching their stuff." Sydney quirked an eyebrow at him as if to ask why. "Hey, if Irina doesn't kill me for messing with their luggage, your dad most definitely will."
He had a point, but it wasn't as though they could just leave it there and Irina had made it perfectly clear over the phone that they wouldn't be meeting them at the hotel, so they had to. "Oh well," she offered him a hand to help him up and he took it begrudgingly.
Irina stood in front of the dirty mirror in the ladies-room of the mall, she looked over her messed up black hair, the dirt marks on her face and the tattered and brown hem of her dress. The woman at the department store had given her several weird looks and even more when she'd pulled out the Platinum credit card and now that she saw herself in all her glory, she understood why. Jack didn't look anywhere as dirty as this, probably because he'd been wearing darker clothes.
She ran a hand through her hair, trying to straighten out the mess but it didn't work. She shook her head, her heart in turmoil. She quickly found a cubicle and got changed into the clothes she'd just purchased. A pair of black, form-fitting jeans, new black underwear and a sheer white shirt. It was still hot outside so she left the black denim jacket off. She completed the contrasting outfit with white boots and emerged to take a look at herself.
She washed her face off and did her best to scrub off the black dirt stains. Finally, she had another shot at fixing her hair into a high plait but soon found a messy ponytail was more likely. She settled for that and emerged into the main shopping area with her bags.
Back at the hotel, Syd and Vaughn had just managed to break into the room using a combination of CIA equipment and doorknob jiggling. Now, at last, they were faced with something they had not expected. Of all people on the face of the planet Earth, Jack and Irina should have been the most organized, obsessively clean people out there, but the room was anything but. Apparently the cleaning staff were also having trouble because, while they had attempted to make the bed, the selection of take out containers and clothes on and around the bed getting in their way, they had quickly given up, the rest of the room, too, had clothing strewn from one end to the other.
How they had managed to make such a mess in so few days was beyond the two people standing, now, just inside the door. "Right," Vaughn said, making a point of looking at Sydney with an 'I told you so' look lodged firmly on his face. "Where do you think we should start?"
Sydney turned to glare at him before making her way into the room and over to two suitcases that sat side by side, open and cluttered with bags from their shopping trip and the souvenirs that they'd needed to buy. "Here would be good place," she told him, turning to see him staring somewhat inadvertently at the room's centerpiece, the bed. "What?" she asked, slightly worried.
She watched as Vaughn walked tentatively over and picked up something that had been obscured from her line of sight by the sheets. He picked up the delicate sheer slip with his forefinger and held it out for her to look at, a pointed look in his eyes. "Your mother has certainly been keeping herself amused."
"You don't think they..." her voice trailed off, her mind not even wanting to think about it. "Forget it," she told him and disappeared quite promptly into the bathroom, feeling more comfortable about dealing with her parent's shampoo and toothbrushes.
They both emerged from the suite fifteen minutes later, the four suitcases sitting beside each other, each one as full as was physically possible. Vaughn had called for help with the bags and a taxi was going to be there to collect them in five minutes. They saw the two young boys heading towards them and Vaughn quickly handed them a twenty dollar note each, happy to spend the CIA's money, and asked them to take the bags down to reception.
Five minutes later they were sitting in the taxi, the bags stuffed in the trunk as the taxi driver informed them that the Avalon Airport was at least two and a half hours away.
Sydney nodded and then turned to Michael. She sighed, "We'll be home soon," she would have expected to have been happy about that, but she didn't feel or sound it.
"Yeah," Vaughn, obviously felt the same, "We will. It'll all be over." He breathed deeply, surprised that he was unhappy to see their trip down under end so quickly. "Get some sleep."
Sydney looked up and smiled at him. She then closed her eyes, her head on his shoulder while his cheek rested on the top of her head, his hand moving up to draw mundane shapes on her back.
Jack had been watching the glass doors like a hawk for over twenty minutes, when she finally emerged he almost didn't recognize her, it was only the confident gait and the enticing curves that caught his eye. She'd changed completely and was, at that moment, placing a new pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes.
She was carrying several bags and as she carefully got into the car, she turned and dumped them in the back seat. She looked at Jack who looked back at her and held her gaze, she was surprised to read the fear and disappointment in his eyes, which, she was sure, was what he was seeing in hers.
In that moment, it became clear to Jack: loving her was the greatest thing he'd ever done, whether or not he lost her again. She leaned over and embraced him, leaning into him as he leant into her. She felt the tears gathering and couldn't let go of him long enough to stop them from falling.
Eventually they pulled apart and she immediately noticed the fresh blood soaking through his bandaged arm, she reached out to touch it cautiously, "I'm sorry." She didn't just mean for reopening the wound.
"Don't be," he answered, "We'll deal with it." He seemed confident, she had no idea why.
She nodded, happy they'd found some middle ground on which to stand. From the one bag she hadn't thrown onto the back seat, Irina pulled out a combination of bandages and disinfectant. She carefully peeled the shirt strips away from his arm and, without allowing him to prepare for the pain, used a cloth to swab the wound with the strong chemical. She heard the hiss that escaped his lips at the undoubtedly sharp pain that this was causing but it needed to be done. She continued until his skin was red and white, all traces of clotted blood and dirt erased. Of course now the blood was flowing again and she was quick to heavily bandage it back up, this time with proper sterile material.
Leaning back to the bags, she pulled out a couple of shirts, both dark in color. She held them up and, picking the black one, Jack quickly put it on, with, of course, a little help from Irina. Again she turned back to the chair, this time, she pulled out a couple of bottles of water and an assortment of cold meats, breads and fruits, everything a hungry spy could ask for, she informed him.
On first sight of the food, he suddenly realized just how long it had been since he'd last eaten, already it was beginning to grow dark outside and the picnic was just asking to be eaten. He grinned, she'd remembered everything, even, he noted on seeing the box, a new pair of shoes.