Part One, Chapter Five:

Opening the door, she crept into her new hotel room. She moves from place to place, leaving no trace behind; always hiding in the shadows. Her new room was much like her last, and she placed her things around the room, marking it as her own. The day before had been yet another draining experience. She had witnessed the death of a friend that she was completely powerless to stop. She had seen the final destruction of a man, leaving only a cold, calculating being in the shell of what he used to be.

Emily was dead.

Emily, who had been her first friend in America all those years ago. Emily, who had captured the attention, love and devotion of a man who would become a cruel, power-hungry monster. Emily, who had cared for Sydney when she was forced to leave. Emily.

Frustrated, she let out a breath of hot air, smoothing her hair behind her ears, and plopped down in a chair. She had been completely unable to prevent the tragedy of her death. Her efforts to stop the madness were futile. Looking for some comfort, she remembered her running dialogue she was having with her imaginary Jack, safe in the letters she kept hidden in her books. She opened her bag, and pulled out a pen and a pad of paper, preparing to begin yet another written conversation with her husband.

Jack,

She's dead. Emily's dead. And it's all my fault. I should have saved her, I should have done something, I should have stopped her before the bullets rang out. I didn't do enough, and now another person has died. Another person who was close to me has suffered. Jack, all I am is bad luck. I bring suffering and agony to those who dare to become close. And I know I'm not worth it.

All I have now are my memories.

I remember Emily when I first came to America. She was so pretty and pure; just what I had expected of an American woman. She had curly blond hair, sparkling eyes, and a mouthful of perfect white teeth. I was immediately jealous of her. How dare she have such an easy life? How dare these Americans live so well when there is so much suffering at home. When my little brother and sister are barely surviving, when my father works at a dead-end government job, when we have so little to live off of. I hated her at first. She was so kind to me though, it was as if she had adopted me as her sister. She showed me the city, visited me, talked to me, spent time with me. I came to like her and appreciate her company in the strange new place I was exploring. She even helped me figure out how to meet you; we planned it all out one night. She was dating Arvin at the time, and knew that you two were friends, so she got Arvin to tell her your daily routine. You were always so strict and regimented, always wanting to have things planned out. We figured out that you always went to the library in the afternoon, and that you had a specific table that you always sat at. For days, Emily and I watched you from behind the bookshelves, until finally, she pushed me forward and told me to go sit down with you. The library was especially busy that day, and there was no where else to sit; so I asked if I could sit at your table. You absentmindedly said and didn't look up. I sighed, knowing that this would take a larger effort on my part, and started to pull out my books. Emily gave me a thumbs-up from her hiding spot, smiling at my little victory. I sat and worked for a while, when you suddenly threw down your pencil, jumped up and said, Yes! I've figured it out! You stood happily for a moment, and then your facial expression changed to one of confusion as you finally noticed my presence. Who are you? you asked.

I rolled my eyes and smiled sheepishly, I'm Laura. You said I could sit here.

You sat back down and studied me closely. I've seen you before, you stated.

Emily, who was watching the whole scene unfold, huffed loudly and came out from behind the shelves.

Of course you've seen her, she said irritably, she's only been trying to get your attention for the past two weeks. You must be the most oblivious man alive. This is Laura, and she really wants to get to know you. Now what you're supposed to do is say, Hi, I'm Jack. Do you want to go get some coffee?' She glared at him, tapping her foot impatiently.

You're Emily, you said bluntly, you're Arvin's girlfriend.

She sighed, Yes, I am, but I'm not the important one here, Laura is. Now if you don't ask her to go get some coffee so you two can talk, I'm going to have to send Arvin after you.

I just blushed, knowing my face was probably bright pink at the conversation that was going on as if I wasn't sitting there. I rose and started to leave quietly so that I could escape, when you said, Wait, Laura, and you left Emily with a dirty look and followed me out of the library.

We walked in silence for a while, when you asked, Have you really been following me around for the last two weeks?

I looked at my feet, and answered,

You got this look in your eyes and a tiny smile appeared, How would you feel if I told you I've been watching you for the past four weeks, trying to decide if I should talk to you or not?

I felt a tingling feeling rising up from my toes, and looked you straight in the eye.

You continued, and asked, Now, I know someone like you would never be that interested in me, but I'm going to ask anyways, stumbling over your words and suddenly getting very shy, would you maybe like to go get something to eat sometime maybe? And you looked at me, nervously, waiting for my response.

I'd like that very much, I said, strangely feeling almost like a young schoolgirl again, despite the fact that I was 20 and was only following my KGB orders. I was excited and happy. I just attributed it to the fact that I was starting to succeed in my mission. But now, I know it was because of you. Because you had taken an interest in me. Because I had taken an interest in you. And my interest had nothing to do with the KGB.

Emily was so happy when we started dating, and when we were married. She was so happy for us when Sydney was born, and when we asked her to be Sydney's godmother.

I miss her Jack. I miss her, and I miss how things used to be.

Tell Sydney that I'm sorry that Emily is gone. That I've allowed someone else important to her to die. That I've failed her, yet again.

I wish I could tell her how much it meant to me that she befriended me. I wish I could tell her that I really was her friend all those years. That it wasn't a lie.

I wish I could tell you the same, and have you believe me. I hope you will someday.

Put a rose on her grave for me.

Always yours,

Irina

She put the pen behind her ear, and detached the pages from the notebook. She dug around in her bag for an envelope, and pulled one out, placing her letter inside, and writing, on the front. Then, she opened the book where she kept her letters, and pulled out the other two she had written. She studied them for a few minutes, and then put all three back in the book, and back in the bag. Later that night, as she lay in bed, almost asleep, she thought to herself, Maybe I should send those letters to him. With that thought, she drifted off to her dream world where she lived with her husband and daughter who still loved and trusted and cherished her.