Jack returned sooner than he had expected, the very next night, in fact. He walked quickly down the hallway after the guard left, unreasonably desperate to see her face.
"Back so soon?" she asked flirtatiously, sauntering up to him.
His face contorted with fury, and he slammed his fist onto the glass.
Irina jumped at the echoing bang. She furrowed her brow. "What was that for?"
Jack still didn't speak. He couldn't. He had nothing to say. His eyes darted, looking her up and down with a dangerous combination of lust and rage. He wanted to kill her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to strangle her. He wanted to make her scream in ecstasy. He wanted to make her scream in pain. He didn't know what he wanted because he wanted too much.
She tried again. "Jack, look at me. Really look at me." He lifted his head and looked into her bright brown eyes. "What do you see when you look at me?"
He calculated before responding. "It depends."
"On what?" she probed.
"On how you look. Sometimes I only see Irina Derevko, the terrorist who nearly killed my daughter and slaughtered men in service to my agency. Sometimes I only see Laura Bristow, my wife and the mother of my child who loved us too much to ever do anything to hurt us."
"What do you see right now?" she asked softly.
"I see everything."
Irina lifted her hand to the glass just as she had done the night before. This time, Jack mirrored her action. He let out a ragged breath and leaned his forehead on the glass. Irina did the same. She felt a physical ache in her core to be so close and not touch him. He had been like this sometimes during their marriage when he had returned from a particularly difficult assignment. There was too much happening, too much in his mind, too much in his soul, too much to control. Something told Irina that she was the only one to whom he could ever show this side of himself. After twenty years without her, this catharsis must have been a long time coming.
"I wish I could do more for you, sweetheart," she whispered.
Jack's heart skipped a beat as he heard Laura's voice. That tender tone of sincerity that he needed more than he had remembered. He reveled in it for a moment before abruptly standing up straight and swiftly walking back down the hall.
Irina knew there was nothing he could say after that show of emotion. Surely he hated himself for exposing that vulnerability to the woman he now viewed as his enemy, the snake in his garden. It would probably be a long time before she saw him again, and she couldn't blame him.
But to her surprise, he came right back, this time wielding the keys to her cell. He unlocked the door and rushed inside. Before she knew what was happening, his lips had crashed on hers. He held her to him tightly. She clutched at his hair, leaning into the unexpected kiss. They crumpled to the floor, holding one another close on the concrete, kissing until they could no longer breathe.
"Don't ever leave me again," he breathed.
"I don't want to," she responded.
Even in this state, Jack knew the distinction of her answer. She would leave him again. He should hate her for it. Perhaps a part of him did. But right now, he didn't care.