Memory is a selection of images; some elusive, others printed indelibly on the brain. (Eve, "Eve's Bayou")

Jack: Technically, we are still married. (2:10, The Abduction)

Kendall phoned every day for a week, his question the same: have you given any thought to the task force?

When the phone rang this time, Jack glared at it as if that would shut it up. He wasn't in the mood to talk to Kendall today, and let the answering machine pick up. Sure enough, it was Kendall.

Jack left the room, heading for the front door. He needed fresh air and a clear head; of course he'd thought about the task force. He thought about it – and her – all the time. He knew, logically, that he should agree. Irina Derevko couldn't be left to run around doing, well, whatever it was she did, and generally causing havoc. Logically, Jack knew the chances of apprehending her would increase if he joined the task force.

But he wouldn't be out in the field, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to stay in the office for the rest of his career at the CIA.

And, if he were honest with himself, there was enough of the man he once was – a man who could remember holding Laura's hand and what it felt like to kiss her – to wonder if some part of Laura still existed.

Despite everything, he still cared about his wife, and he was torn being hating that feeling and fearing it. (Of course, he refused to analyze the depth of his feelings. He wasn't that much of a masochist.)

Later, he told himself it was thinking of Laura – Irina – that did it. There hadn't been mail sent to his home in years, but in a lifetime where he and Laura and Sydney had been a family, it had been his morning ritual to check. Sydney, acting so grown up at the tender of five, had loved to leave pictures in the mailbox for Jack to take to work.

He didn't find any of Sydney's pictures inside when he checked today, but there was a postcard. A tropical paradise on the front, blue sea, white sand and palm trees. On the back, in handwriting he would have recognized anywhere: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

He imagined Irina writing it; the corners of her mouth lifted in a half-smile, her head tilted slightly to one side, her hair falling across her face. Or perhaps her hair was up, baring her neck—

Stop it, he told himself. You do not need this.

He'd come outside to take his mind off her, but she followed him everywhere.

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

He studied the phrase again, wondering why it sounded so familiar. And he wondered what the hell Irina was doing.

He slipped the postcard into his pocket, and returned inside the house, whatever desire he'd had to go for a walk had vanished.

They were sprawled on a checkered-blanket, Laura's head resting on Jack's stomach, both lazy after the picnic meal. Jack, his hand tangled in Laura's hair, knew suddenly that he was going to ask her to marry him.

"I want to be like that one day," Laura said.

"Like what?"

She gestured across the park to an elderly couple strolling hand-in-hand along the path. "Like them."

"You want to be old?"

She rolled onto her side and looked at him. "No. I want—"

"I know." He smiled. "Me too."

There was sadness in her eyes he didn't understand, but he didn't push her. "It must be wonderful to have that kind of relationship. I suppose when you live with someone for that long, there are no secrets between you."

"I don't know. He's probably got a girlfriend your age."

"Jack!" She swatted his shoulder.

"What?" Unrepentant, he added, "Maybe she's the one with a young—"

"Don't you believe in happy marriages?"

Her voice had an edge to it, and he was worried he was pushing her away. It never ceased to surprise him that she'd chosen to date him, and every now and then he was afraid he would do something that would spoil things.

"Of course I do," he said. "Tell you what, when we're that age, I'll take you somewhere exotic."

Almost immediately, he wished he could take the words back, realizing how much of his heart he'd revealed.

"I hope sooner than that. I'd like to enjoy the holiday." She smiled, and he knew everything was okay again.

He pulled her closer so he could kiss her and thought, yes, he wanted to be like that old couple too.

TBC,

Bonus points, and, er, cyber chocolate to anyone who guesses where Irina's quote comes from. There's a clue in the previous chapter . . .