Since Feeling Is First…
Silence filled the room after Jack finished his confession. Sydney carefully watched Vaughn's face as he tried to set things straight in his mind. She could understand what he was going through; she had had to do the same thing when she found out her mother was alive. It had been a slow, hard process, but she had finally come to terms with her mother's past. And she knew she would do anything she could to help Vaughn deal with all this new information.
She tried herself to make sense of what was going on. Jack had come here to stop her from talking to Volkov; she knew this. So he must be linked somehow to the death of Vaughn's father. Because Irina had accompanied Jack, she suspected they had worked together in the KGB. That much made sense. But the rest… She didn't know. She had always felt a little guilty, being so close to Vaughn, because she thought her mother had killed his father. She wondered how he could care for her when she was the offspring of his fathers killer. And know things were turned upside-down.
Her thoughts were cut off by Jack's voice.
"Where's Irina?" He asked, his eyes looking around the small hotel room. Sydney and Vaughn, too, got up and searched. She was nowhere to be found. They all looked to the balcony.
"Oh no… No…" Sydney murmered ash she rushed to the edge of the balcony and looking down to the streets below. The building was made with large bricks, making it easy to climb down. A story below, there was a large ledge. It would have been easy for Irina to climb down onto the ledge and escape through one of the rooms below. "She's gone."
"There's no chance of finding her in Paris. She could be anywhere by now." Jack said, his eyes narrowing and lips thinning. "She planned this… But if I know Irina, I know she's not going anywhere without Volkov."
"We'll have to trap her then." Vaughn said, speaking up for the first time. Jack nodded, then walked off to make some calls. Meanwhile, Sydney looked around the room again.
Vaughn watched her, knowing what she had been thinking before Irina's escape. He hated that she felt guilty when she shouldn't. Yes, Jack had killed his father. Yes, it was a great shock and yes, it would take a while for him to wrap his mind around the idea and come to terms with it. But it all boiled down to that his father was dead. It didn't matter if Sydney's mother killed him or her father killed him, he was dead. And he was still in love with Sydney. He was about to say something when suddenly her expression changed from one of thoughtful observation to one of confused focus as her eyes locked onto an object on the balcony.
"Syd?" He questioned as she slowly rose and walked towards it. "Syd what is it?" She didn't answer, but pulled a book out from underneath the worn cushion of the chair. An envelope was stuck inside. He quickly stood up to join her. Sydney turned the book over in her hands to read the engraved title on the leather cover. It was a first edition copy of "a collection of poems by ee cummings," Sydney traced the words with her fingertips, then opened the inside cover, upon which there was an inscription.
"To Laura, with all my love, forever and a day. Jack" Sydney read aloud. "This is one of the books he sent my mother…" She flipped through the pages to where the envelope served as a bookmark in the pages. It was addressed to them both in Irina's handwriting. Sydney removed the piece of hotel stationery inside.
Sydney and Vaughn;
I give this to you both in the hope that you will take it to heart and that you won't let your past dictate your future. This might be hard to understand, but remember; Truth takes time.
Irina
Sydney replaced the letter and turned her attention back to the book. It was open to page forty-seven.
since feeling is first
who pays any attention to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
-the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says
we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis
Sydney finished reading the poem, and finally understood what Irina's cryptic letter had meant.
"What do you think?" She asked Vaughn, who was standing behind her, his hand on the small of her back.
"I think she's right. Our pasts… Our families' pasts… They have nothing to do with our relationship. And I don't think that I'd be willing to trade anything for what we have." He smiled at her as she turned around to face him, his arm still around her waist.
"I agree. I love you, and nothing can change that."
"I love you, too." Vaughn said, reaching up with his free hand to touch her cheek, then pulling her in for a kiss. His hand trailed through her hair and slid down to join the other on her back as she moved closer. A moment later he felt her hands around his neck, and the kiss deepened.
"Ahem." Jack cleared his throat loudly from the door. They reluctantly moved apart, each looking guilty but still smiling. "About that…" Jack began.
"Oh, no. You don't get to do that." Sydney said, still grinning. "You kissed mom. You don't ask questions, we don't ask questions."
"Fair enough…" Jack said, his face turning a bit red though he was clearly unhappy with the fact he was being blackmailed by his daughter. He didn't, however, miss the chance to give Vaughn a glare that was worth a thousand words, though it could be summed up in two sentences. Watch your step, Vaughn. I still don't like you, and this is far from over.
Vaughn, however, pretended not to notice the mental bullets Jack was shooting at him, instead taking a quick glance out onto the balcony again before changing the subject.
"So… How are we going to find Irina?"
They spent the next half an hour making plans. They each took turns surveilling Volkov's apartment while the other two brainstormed. They were about to go drive around the city to see if they might get lucky and find her when they heard two pairs of feet stop outside their door. The sound of the key being inserted into the lock followed quickly, then the knob turned and the door swung open.
Irina stepped into the hotel room, followed by a tall, dark man that could only be Volkov.
Hi guys, I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank all my great readers. Seriously you guys are great, you review and review and review!!! Anyway, the poem, "Since Feeling is First" is by ee cummings (duh its in the story!!), one of my favorite poets. I read it and immediately knew I wanted to use it for SV!!!
Keep up the great reviews; I can't get motivated to write without them!!!