Memory
Summary – Jack and Irina hold on to a memory
A/N – Still trying to get a feel for this whole writing thing. Critical feedback is appreciated.
Disclaimer – None of the characters are mine. I have to give them back.
Her mother had once told her that a memory was a window to the past. It would turn foggy with time, but if one chose to clean the haze - if they chose to remember - than the memory will remain clear. Remembering kept the memory alive.
The car was stifling and the deaths were fresh; she removed herself as quickly as decorum allowed. Her teeth were clenched as she lifted her head to give a nonchalant grin, she must not let him think her bothered. She wanted to think that she didn't know the two men's fate, that it wasn't her fault, but she had been alive long enough to know better.
They had died because of her.
She hadn't known them, and would not grieve. Fate brought them here and fate told them to die. There was only one thing she could do, she would live.
She stood stoically watching as the van pulled around. Panama was cool for this time of year, but she was sweating. A cool bead slowly trickled down her spine, which served to keep her senses alert. The van opened to reveal the man she had only been able to torture in her dreams. Slowly she smiled as she pulled out the manuscript, with a tilt of her head she handed it to him. He brushed her fingers reaching for it and she held back a shiver of distaste. The sliding door closed with a shudder and she turned to face her adversary. His hands trembled as he read, without glancing up he waved the driver to go. She turned away as her thoughts drifted to the previous night.
She licked her lips one last time, she could still taste him.
She would remember.
His mother had once told him that memories happened every second of every day, but it was up to the individual to choose what not to forget. Every day a person should take an event and not forget; they should make a memory.
He jumped out of the van and with gun held high he walked towards the limousine. He knew she would not be in there, but he was required to play the part. Heart pounding in chest, he yanked open the back door.
Empty.
With a gritted smile he contacted the CIA. He knew she had the manuscript. With her in his arms he had placed it in her pants; with a kiss to her lips he covered it with her shirt, and with a heavy heart he let her go.
He received confirmation; both were now gone. The manuscript replaced with colorful notes, but she - she was irreplaceable. He walked along the pier with shoulders hung in defeat. Somehow during the night, between the rekindled touches and sighs of longing, they had worked out a plan. Together they were stronger, together they had a chance. A part of him had hoped that they would fail; that she would not be allowed to escape. He had just found her again, he didn't want to let go.
He closed his eyes, he could still feel her.
He would not forget.
---End---