Chapter nineteen

"Are you okay? I'm not hurting you?"

Irina hooked her legs around Jack's waist to keep him in place. "This is perfect. Don't move."

"But you're so thin." He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at her.

"I'm not going to break." He didn't look convinced, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her chest against his. "I need to be close to you."

Jack rolled so that they were lying on their sides, then slowly began rubbing his hand over her back in slow circles. "I've missed you," he confessed.

Irina was content to simply lie there and enjoy the closeness, but she felt herself growing sleepy, and didn't want to waste a single minute she had with Jack. "How did you find me?"

"Your sister."

"But—" She didn't know what to say. "But Katya hates you."

"And she loves you."

Irina felt tears well up in her eyes. Determined not to cry, she started kissing Jack; his neck his shoulders, the length of his jaw. Their mouths met, and he rolled so she was under him again.

When they made love now, it was not as rushed or as desperate as it had been earlier. They had not been permitted this for over a year, and now it was time to learn each other's bodies again.

"Mine," Irina said, her hand over Jack's heart.

"Mine," he echoed, tracing her collarbone with his finger.

She kissed the scar on his palm from his injury in Kashmir. "Mine."

"Mine." He framed her face with his hands. "I love you, Irina."

"Mine," she whispered as he kissed away her tears. "My Jack."

Her body's response surprised her; she had thought, after Kashmir, she was dead to desire. She had thought she could never want to be touched this way again, but this was Jack. This was her husband.

They held hands as he moved inside her, their eyes locked, and Irina could see nothing but adoration in his gaze. It was a look she had known in another life, and the thought that she had not lost everything was almost too much for her. Joy warred with sorrow, and she started to cry.

Jack stopped moving. "Am I hurting you?"

Mute, she shook her head.

"Irina?"

"I love you, Jack. I love you."

Jack was still on Los Angeles time, and too wide awake to sleep. He didn't mind; he was happy to lie here and watch Irina. He'd held her for a long time after they'd made love, neither of them speaking. It was enough just to be together again.

His stomach rumbled softly, reminding him that it had been a while since he'd had any meal of substance. He brushed his lips against Irina's forehead, then slipped out of the bed. It was a challenge trying to find his clothes in the dark, so once he'd put his boxers on and picked up his shirt, he decided the odds of anyone else being up were slim, and went in search of the kitchen.

"So you're Ira's Jack."

Jack peered over the open refrigerator door to see Andrei leaning against the kitchen counter. He stood and let the door swing shut. "Uh, yes."

"Hmm." Andrei studied him, his expression inscrutable, but Jack was no stranger to interrogation. Then Andrei smiled. "I suppose you missed dinner."

Jack nodded.

"Prudence left food in the warmer." Andrei opened the drawer and looked inside. "I'm not sure what it's supposed to be."

"I'll just have a sandwich."

"Is Irina eating too?" Something in Andrei's tone gave Jack pause, and he looked curiously at the other man. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed how thin she is," Andrei continued.

"Is she ill?" Jack hesitated on the last word; the possibility was too awful for him to comprehend.

"She doesn't skip meals on purpose." Andrei sighed, then sat at the kitchen table and gestured for Jack to do the same. Only once Jack had also sat down, did he continue. "It's as if she just doesn't care about anything. She might as well be a ghost."

"She said something about a car accident," Jack prompted.

"She drinks, all the time. I tried talking to her about it once, but you know how she can be. I didn't realize how serious things had become." He drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes glancing around the room but never meeting Jack's.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"When it happened, I thought she had done it on purpose."

"She wouldn't—"

"You don't know her anymore, Jack. She's different now."

Jack thought of how fragile Irina had seemed in his arms, and he wondered how he would be coping if he didn't have Sydney to ground him. He recalled Katya's words: Irina Derevko is dead, and wondered if this is what she had meant. Then he stood up and turned back to the fridge. "Could you get me two plates?"

Irina woke to an empty bed, and for a horrible moment thought she had only dreamed Jack. But then she heard his voice in the hallway and she relaxed. She stretched across the bed to turn on the lamp.

Jack entered carrying a tray with two plates and two mugs on it. Irina raised an eyebrow as she watched him approach her. "Hungry, Jack?"

"One's yours." Carefully balancing the tray, he sat on the bed, then settled it on his lap. "Are you hungry?"

Irina tilted her head, considering Jack's question.

He held out one of the plates. "Or were you planning to live on love this weekend?"

Irina kept her expression serious as she said, "No, no, I think I need to keep up my strength," and she took the plate.

"Good. Because I have something for you, and you're only going to get it when you've finished eating."

Laughter spilled from her lips; it hadn't felt this good to laugh in months. "Oh, you have something for me, do you?"

She had missed his smile, she thought, and there was something in his expression that she couldn't quite decipher when he said, "Eat."

She took a bite of the sandwich, realizing, to her surprise, just how hungry she actually was. Once her plate was empty, she reached for a mug. "Thank you."

"Don't move. I'll be right back." Jack picked up the tray and left the room. Irina propped a pillow against the headboard to make herself more comfortable, and sipped her tea. When Jack returned, he was carrying his bag. He unzipped it, rummaged around inside, then pulled out a photo album and handed it to Irina.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

She put her mug on the nightstand and opened the album. Sydney, dressed as a turkey, smiled up at her from the front page. Irina pressed her lips together to stifle her cry, then looked at Jack. "She – It's – Jack, thank you."

He smiled. "Would you prefer to be alone, or—"

"No." She held out her hand, and he climbed onto the bed. She shifted forward to make space for him to sit behind her, then relaxed against his chest. This had always been one of her favourite positions.

She turned the page. "I found a roll of film from before you – before the accident," Jack said. The photo of the three of them had been taken on one of their frequent picnics in the park. Irina felt tears run down her cheeks, but she did nothing to check them. She stared at the image for a long time before turning to the next page.

Sydney and Jack. Sydney in her ballet clothes. Sydney waving from the branches of a tree. Sydney clutching a teddy bear to her chest as she slept. Sydney posing with her bag on the first day of school.

Irina's gaze lingered on each picture as she drank in the details of her child. "She's so beautiful," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Like her mother." Jack's voice was also slightly choked and fresh tears spilled from Irina's eyes.

"She's getting so big."

"She's so tall for her age, the tallest in her class, I think. Do you remember how small she was?"

Jack's hand covered Irina's belly, but as his thumb brushed her skin, it was Nadia she thought of, not Sydney. She couldn't breathe. "Jack—"

"She's stubborn, like you," Jack continued. "And she's smart, so smart."

He was still stroking her belly, and it was more than Irina could bear. She shoved the album off her lap and scrambled out of Jack's embrace. Then, suddenly conscious of her nakedness, she took her robe from the closet to cover herself.

"Irina?"

She couldn't look at him, and slowly sank to the floor. He was at her side in an instant. "I'm sorry," she said. "I tried – but – I couldn't – she was too small – too soon—"

"Irina, what are you talking about?"

Irina didn't register the panic in his voice; she was back in that cell with her dead baby.

Jack picked her up and carried her back to the bed. "Irina?"

"She died, Jack. I'm so sorry."

"Sydney's fine." Jack opened the album. "Look at her. She's fine. See?"

Irina's hand trembled as she traced the outline of Sydney's face. Then she reached for Jack and pulled him closer to her. Pressing her body against his, she began kissing him. She didn't want to think, she wanted to forget; she wanted to disappear. But he pushed her away, holding her at arms' length.

"Sweetheart, what did they do to you? What did they tell you?"

She didn't hear him, focusing instead on his apparent rejection. "Don't you want me? Aren't I good enough?"

"Were you drinking earlier, before I came? Is that it?"

Anger was better than pain, and Irina sat up. "You've spoken to Andrei."

He didn't deny it. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that people keep trying to fix me! But I'm fine!" She got off the bed, putting distance between her and Jack. Her gaze fell on her mug, and she threw it against the wall. Still not satisfied, she picked up the lamp. The room went dark as Irina hurled it at the wall as well.

"Irina!"

Jack slipped out of bed and opened the curtains to let the moonlight shine in. Then he carefully made his way around the bed until he was right in front of Irina. He took both her hands in his. "No. You're not fine."

She smiled bitterly. "Of course not. I'm already dead. I died when she did."

Jack closed the distance between them, sliding one arm around her waist to keep her in place, and brushing away her tears with the thumb of his free hand. "Who, sweetheart? Laura?"

She leaned into his touch. Dare she tell him? She was afraid he would hate her, but she was so tired of hurting. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "No. Nadia."