AN: Music for this chapter (on repeat): Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy by P. Tchaikovsky, Imagine by John Lennon, All I Want for Christmas by Mariah Carey, Make Someone Happy by Jimmy Durante, Stranger in Moscow by Michael Jackson, Sleep Walk by Santo and Johnny
TWENTY-EIGHT
o
A couple of hours later after getting ready and then dropping Lena off with the Putins, they were walking up the steps of the famous Bolshoi Apollo Theatre.
They both looked spectacularly beautiful: Irina in a silver form fitting sweating and satin skirt and Sydney, in a one-piece silver dress, with fur shawl, that Irina had waiting for her when they arrived back at the apartment.
They checked their coats and as soon as they stepped foot inside the main foyer, Sydney knew exactly what they were about to see, 'The Nutcracker' performed by none other then the beautiful Moscow Ballet.
"Oh Mom," Sydney linked her arm with Irina, gasping with excitement as they made their way to the best seats in the theatre. "You remembered."
When Sydney was two she began ballet lessons to, 'dance like Mommy,' and had always wanted to see The Nutcracker performed by the famous Russian ballerinas.
They were going to go the Christmas Irina had been extracted. And now here they were, in Moscow, in the Bolshoi Apollo Theatre about to watch the most famous ballet in its birthplace.
"Of course." Irina squeezed her hand, leaning her head against Sydney's. "My mother took me when I was a child, and I always wanted to take you. So here we are." She smiled brightly as they took their seats. "I haven't seen The Nutcracker as just a spectator since I was eight. The last time I performed in it, I was sixteen." She couldn't help but giggle at Sydney's eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "I haven't seen it since, so this is exciting for me, too!"
"You danced with the Moscow Ballet?" Sydney said in almost a whisper of awe.
"Yes, for a couple of years." Irina smiled, running her thumb over the back of Sydney's hand in contemplation. "My mother was so disappointed when my life with the KGB took me away from the Theatre Company. She wanted me to be the professional ballerina she was never able to be. Every year at Christmas, before the Revolution, my grandparents would invite the best ballerinas to perform for them in the palace in St. Petersburg. She became obsessed with dancing after watching them. She and her sisters used to run throughout the palaces pretending they were snowflakes or butterflies. She just loved to dance. So did I."
"Do you still dance?" Sydney asked curiously, noting that her mother still walked like a duck, as did she, from their years of doing ballet.
"Yes, of course. I still dance to relax and for strength and flexibility. My ballet training actually helped me to excel in the physical aspects of being a spy. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
"Yes, I do. I can't tell you how many times my training in ballet has helped me to escape death."
"Please, don't tell me that." Irina laughed, shaking her head. "I don't want a reminder of just how much danger my little girl has been in, in her life."
"Mom, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself and getting out of the sticky situations I always seem to find myself in." Sydney mockingly admonished her.
"Yes, I know your are, Sydney. You are excellent at what you do. I've never said otherwise, in fact I would have loved working with you. Working with you now is wonderful. But as your mother, it's ingrained in my very being to be worried and concerned about the dangerous aspect."
"I would have loved working with you, too." Sydney smiled at the thought of kicking ass side by side with her Mom and Irina's motherly instincts to worry about her. "But, we are working together now."
"Right." Irina picked up Sydney's hand and brought it to her lips with a kiss. "You watch my back."
"And I'll watch yours." Sydney grinned about the idea of having her mother as a field partner, remembering India and despite the danger it was fun to spend time with her.
Just then the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play, an immediate hush fell upon the audience as the first dancers made their way onto the stage.
"Mom," Sydney whispered with a curious smile, "I forgot to ask. What part did you play?" She smiled her big dimple smile remembering Irina asking her the same question about her Thanksgiving Day play.
"The Sugar Plum Fairy." Irina whispered back with that enchanting look in her eyes.
*Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy*
"Of course you were." Sydney giggled, shaking her head adding under her breath, "Of course! Who else would you be but the beautiful Sugar Plum Fairy, ruler of Sugar Plum Kingdom? So appropriate!"
It didn't matter that Sydney wasn't a little girl anymore, she was in just as much awe as she would have been then, watching the beautiful dancers and costumes tell one of her favorite Christmas tales.
Every now and then she'd glance at her mother who was enjoying it just as much. Irina in turn, was sneaking glances at Sydney and watching her reactions.
Irina saw the six year old little girl in Sydney that she'd remembered so well and sharing this experience with her, was fulfilling one of her own dreams. She couldn't get enough of Sydney's smile or cute laugh that seemed to bubble up out of nowhere.
When Irina's former part came on, Sydney could just see her mother up there, sixteen years old the graceful beauty and envy of all little girls.
When it was over and they were leaving, word had gotten around that, 'the Romanov' and her daughter were in attendance of tonight's performance. As soon as Irina and Sydney appeared at the top of the grand staircase a mass of flashes went off in their faces. The Press, mostly foreign, had been waiting for just such an opportunity to catch her in Russia.
Soon, the others in attendance realized who she was and why the Press was taking her pictures and all stopped to smile, some clapping and smiling at both she and Sydney as they made their way gracefully down the steps.
There was no point in trying to hide or out run them; that would only encourage them.
Irina smiled brilliantly and nodded her thanks when she passed someone clapping for her. Sydney could tell her mother was nervous by all this attention but was handling it just as she had everything else in her life, extremely calm and with grace.
Question after question was being flung at her and time after time it was the same question just rephrased in hopes she'd be fooled and answer. All questions were dealing with her involvement with the government, espionage, her life with Jack and the people's hopes of bringing back the monarchy with her as the official ruler and if she would accept that responsibility.
Irina only answered one question just as she and Sydney were about to leave the Theatre, 'What are you doing in Moscow this evening?'
The question seemed so ridiculous to both Sydney and Irina as it was pretty obvious what they were doing; they'd gone to the ballet.
"I'm spending some quality time with daughter, by enjoying my favorite ballet. And if you don't mind, I'd like to continue on with our evening. Da svidanya." Irina replied smoothly, flashing her brilliant smile as she wave 'goodbye' to everyone.
Everyone seemed mesmerized by her and the photographers, happy with the photos they'd already gotten, did as her hidden message implied and left them alone.
"You're a natural at that, Mom." Sydney laughed her funny giggle as they made their way across the Square to the restaurant they would be dining in this evening.
Irina had basically told the press in her enchanting way to 'back off' and they did, so completely mesmerized by her tone and voice.
"Well, I've realized it's futile to try to run from them now. They know almost everything. I told Vladimir to go ahead and release the facts and some photos, hoping they will get what they want and stop stalking me." She laughed, linking her arm with Sydney's. "And apparently, as long as I sit still long enough for them to get a few pictures and say 'something,' they're content. You, I thought, handled it very well."
"I guess I'm fairly good at remaining calm under pressure, sort of a necessity in our line of work." She laughed again making Irina laugh.
Irina stopped them by tugging back on Sydney's arm to stare at the beauty of St. Basil's Cathedral before them. She inhaled the cold air deeply then laughed shaking her head as she began to walk slowly remembering another time, in the same place.
"What's so funny?" Sydney was interested by Irina's sudden behavior and obvious amusement at something she wasn't privy to.
"I was just thinking about when I was little, six or so I think, I would stop by here after school." She paused trying hard not to laugh as she shook her head. "Katya and I wanted candy but we really didn't have enough money for it and our parents wouldn't buy it for us except on special occasions. So, one day, I got an idea."
"Oh no," Sydney giggled, "You got an idea… Why do I have a feeling you're about to tell me of something illegal you did that kicked off your future career?"
Irina nudged her smiling with her own giggle as they walked along, her daughter was so perceptive, "So I got an idea," She started again, laughing, "The Red Square was packed with tourists starting in the spring and all summer long. One day I'd sat watching all the tourists in front of St. Basil's and decided to make my move, and that's when I began my summer of pick-pocketing." She tried not laughing as Sydney looked at the cathedral in front of her and then to her mother and burst out laughing hysterically imagining her mother all of six years old beginning her career as a thief, and for candy.
"Katya and I ate a lot of candy that summer and my mother never knew. She couldn't figure out why I'd want to spend so much time at church but if she ever knew, she didn't say anything. We spent almost everyday there during that one summer and she only let us go because I managed to bribe Mikhail, who was older, into coming with us if I bought him some candy too. I can't believe I just confessed that."
"So you're career of stealing and bribery started when you were six." Sydney couldn't stop giggling. "Did you ever get caught?"
"Once, and I just started bawling hysterically and the man felt so badly, he ended up buying me candy to calm me down! So I still got what I wanted!" She kept laughing as they walked.
"Well, I have a confession to make too, if you're spilling your secrets, I better spill mine. It's been eating at me for all these years, I felt so badly about it." Sydney calmed down a little and tried to be serious though it was difficult in this laughing mood.
"Sydney, what did you do?" Irina asked bright eyed and curious.
"Well, apparently you passed on your trait of thievery to me, obviously as we're both spies but also because I, too stole for the first time when I was six for the same reason." Sydney shrugged mischievously before laughing again at her mother's reaction.
"What? When?" Irina was wracking her brain trying to remember anything from that time that might give her a clue, or perhaps it was after she 'died.'
"I was with you actually," Sydney started laughing again, "Do you remember when you took me with you to your doctor's appointment? The last one right before your extraction?" Sydney smiled softly, pulling Irina's arm in closer to her.
"Yes." Irina replied softly, thinking back to that appointment. It was the first time she had heard their baby's heartbeat, the baby she lost when she arrived at Kashmir. "I remember."
"Where did you go just now?" Sydney had seen the sudden change in Irina's eyes even if her mask of perfection was firmly in place now.
"I was just thinking about that appointment." Irina smiled softly at Sydney then turned her vision to straight ahead.
"It was about the baby, wasn't it?" Sydney suddenly remembered that her mother had just found out she was pregnant before her extraction with the baby she watched Cuvee beat out of her.
"Yes." Irina admitted in almost a whisper.
"I'm sorry." Sydney felt terrible for bringing up what must be a very painful memory.
"No, don't be silly. You have nothing to be sorry for. It was a good day." She smiled and pulled Sydney in closer to her. "Go on with your story. I want to hear what my little 'thief' was apparently up to." She laughed and Sydney felt the ease come back into the conversation and was amazed by how quickly her mother could recover.
"Well…while you went into see the doctor, my fingers started itching looking at the box of Lions Mints on the table they were selling for charity a quarter a piece. Do you remember? I'd asked you if I couldn't 'pretty please have one' and you said, 'No,' I'd already had enough sweets for the day. I was so upset, remember?"
"Yes, I remember." Irina began laughing thinking about Sydney's pouting face that wasn't much different then the one she sometimes wore as grown up. "You little sneak, you stole the mints?"
"Yep, I sure did. I stole the roll, casually pretended to 'look' at it then dropped it into my pocket on my overalls." She started giggling remembering her first 'espionage' mission.
Irina was smiling from ear to ear, her body shaking as she laughed with Sydney.
"I remember now that you smelled 'very minty' when you came in for dinner that night…and you told me it was because you'd-"
"Just brushed my teeth." Sydney said in unison with Irina, laughing.
"I ran straight to my fort outside when we got home and ate the whole roll."
"I knew you were up to something out there!" Irina's eyes lit up shaking her head, still laughing.
"It was also my first day of lying out-right to you. God, I felt so terrible for stealing first of all but mostly for lying to you. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I cried and cried that night, I felt so bad. When you died a few days later, I thought for sure it was God's way of punishing me for stealing from the charity box and then lying to you." She added softly, feeling a sudden wave of sadness. "I cried myself to sleep forever about it until I finally broke down and told my nanny I thought you died because I was bad. She tried convincing me otherwise but it wasn't until I was older that I knew it wasn't because of what I'd done."
"Oh, Sweetheart, no." Irina's eyes filled with tears instantly thinking about her little girl crying herself to sleep thinking she was somehow responsible for her mother's 'death.' Irina made Sydney stop walking and flung her arms around her neck, hugging her tightly, and then peppering her head and cheeks with kisses like she did when Sydney was little and upset. "I'm so sorry, Sydney."
"Mom, its okay. It was along time ago and it wasn't your fault I stole candy and lied to you, burdening my own conscience." Sydney hugged her back then offered a smile.
"Sydney, you were only six years old. Your conscience shouldn't have been burdened by anything! If anyone's conscience deserved to be burdened for stealing and lying, it was mine. Not yours." Irina ran her hand down the side of Sydney's head, making sure she was looking her in the eyes. "And of course I could never be disappointed in you, especially for that! Not when I stole money to buy candy at the same age!" She laughed trying to lighten the sudden somber mood. Her mind was still thinking about how her life with the KGB and especially her assignment, had caused so many hurts in so many lives. The KGB controlled everything about her life, and apparently, even her little girls guilt at believing she had a part in making her die when the KGB extracted her.
If she just could have stayed, if even for only a week longer maybe Sydney would have come to her and told her what she'd done, let go of that burden and she would have told her she loved her no matter what and then maybe…maybe she wouldn't have thought she had a part in her mother's demise for the remainder of her childhood over something as small and insignificant as mints and a lie about brushing her teeth.
"Well, I feel so much better finally confessing that to you," Sydney broke into a smile and laughed softly, "Of all the things I've stolen and lied about in my line of work, its those damn mints that bothered me the most."
"I love you." Irina giggled, kissing her cheek quick, linking their arms as they began walking again. "You're so funny."
"Mom," Sydney looked over at Irina after a few moments of silence, "Thank You, for taking me with you today to the orphanage, and tonight to the ballet. The kids and their faces," She smiled brightly, "And the beautiful dancers, I will never forget it."
"Neither, will I, Sydney. Neither, will I." Irina returned the smile, "And thank you for sharing it with me."
Jack stumbled through the door of their home for the first time in days, his arms full of luggage, piles of mail and his briefcase. Kendall had finally ordered him to go home just after noon as he was staring off into space and the apparent bags under his eyes meant he hadn't slept in awhile.
In truth, Jack was happy to leave after gossip spread quickly through the Ops center of 'a major fight with Irina in Jakarta,' and he was receiving a mixed chorus of sympathetic and stern looks.
He dropped his bags onto the couch, his briefcase on the dining room table and the mail on the kitchen counter as he made his way to the refrigerator to get something to eat. He flung open the doors and his eyes fell upon Irina's insulin; he wondered briefly if she'd had enough vials with her? Before shaking his head, grabbing the milk and closing the door. She can take care of herself. Jack reminded himself as he stood looking at the picture of Irina and Lena on the refrigerator door. He missed them and he finally allowed himself to admit that.
After being away from them for only a few days, he missed them.
Everywhere he walked around the house, there were reminders. Lena's bouncy seat still sitting in front of the Christmas tree, her tiny socks in the laundry Irina had folded, waiting to be put away on their bed, the smell of Irina's shampoo and lotion still lingering in the bathroom and on her robe, her shawl lying over the arm of the chair in front of the fire place.
It was maddening to Jack, especially when his mind would flash back to 'similar findings' of her things after he thought she died. After he showered, he tried to lie down and take a nap but found himself staring at the empty space beside him where Irina was supposed to be. He tried reading his book but gave up after reading the same page four times. He went into the living room and stood staring at the Christmas tree for, only God knows how long; his thoughts with his girls on the other side of the world. The house looked amazing, all decked out for Christmas and there he was, alone, again.
Shaking himself out his despairing state, he trudged back into the kitchen to start going through the mail, flipping bill after bill, junk mail after junk mail until he stopped, frozen staring at his and Irina's faces on the cover of Newsweek.
The cover read, 'Love in the Cold War: Falling for the Enemy,' the caption in the corner, '1972- The unsuspecting Jack, 21, a CIA Agent fell hard for 'Laura' the alias of Irina, 17, a KGB Spy who fell for her 'mark.'
"Seventeen…" Jack whispered to himself staring at the photos and shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn't seen these photos in many years.
They were both so young, and so in love those photos. He wondered if Irina had really been in love with him then, those photos had been taken early in their relationship. In his heart, in his memories, he believed she was but he didn't know for sure.
Jack couldn't help but smile staring at her picture in the bottom left of the magazine. Both of the pictures on the bottom had been taken on their trip to Australia the year they got engaged. He could still see her on the beach that morning, her hair blowing in the wind, big smile on her face and her infectious laugh as she tackled him into the sand just moments after he took the photo.
The photo of him, she'd taken in their hotel while Jack was teasing the maid about 'not disturbing them' in his best Aussie accent. Looking at the photo, he decided he was a lot more fun then.
The top photos he recognized from their first year in LA. Irina's, from UCLA's press archives when she accepted the teaching position and his was a photo to supplement his cover story as a 'new employee' at Jennings Aero-Space. Now the world knew he didn't sell airplane parts and was actually in the CIA. His undercover work was finished for certain now and surprisingly, he wasn't that upset by it. He walked slowly up the steps, flipping through the pages of the articles covering the timeline of events in his own life and Irina's, some things he'd realized, reading about she and her mother, he hadn't known.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring for several moments Irina's picture and the pictures of them together and he couldn't stand how much he missed her. An hour was even too long after twenty years apart. He thought to himself. He missed her so much that it physically hurt, he had to stop torturing himself.
They'd already survived so much; he could make it for another couple of days. He threw the magazine on the bed and decided to keep himself busy. He picked up the stack of laundry and began putting his and Irina's clothes away before moving into the nursery to put away Lena's things.
When he'd hung the last tiny outfit and shut the closet door he stopped to look around the room. It was a perfect nursery, he thought, all that is missing is the baby.
Jack walked over to the crib and wound the mobile.
*Imagine*
The lullaby was John Lennon's 'Imagine' and he stood there a moment, watching as the tiny plush animals circled above the empty space. He sat in the rocker and flipped through one of the well-worn books of nursery rhymes he remembered reading to Sydney. He picked up the photo of Lena and Irina on the tiny nightstand. They were in the same rocker, in the same position as the photo he'd taken of 'Laura' and Sydney so many years before. He wanted nothing more then to reach into the photo and hold them both, kiss them and never let them go.
'Everything in this house is sheer torture!' Jack sighed and set the photo down. "This is absurd!" He stood rapidly flying into his room, throwing his dirty clothes out of his luggage and flinging fresh clothes in.
*All I Want For Christmas*
"What am I doing here? Sitting here by myself, alone? I've done enough of that! I want my wife; I want my daughters. I'll apologize, I'll listen, I'll tell her what she deserves to hear and hopefully, she'll forgive the jackass that I am and I'll be holding both of them tomorrow morning!" He was talking to himself, scolding more like it. "I'm not losing her again over my own stupidity. She loves you! She loves you! You know that! She didn't want to leave you; she was forced to leave you! Her own mother was killed because she loved you! She was tortured and put in prison because she loved you! God, Jack you're an ass!" He rambled on as he flew down the stairs and out the door, "Great! Now I'm going crazy, talking to myself and using third person!" He sped his car down the freeway towards LAX, hoping to be on the next flight to Russia.
Jack was zigging and zagging through traffic, blasting his horn at the idiotic drivers doing last minute Christmas shopping, and driving along like they had all the time in the world.
"Marshall!" He boomed into his cell phone as he tore off onto a side street in an attempt to get around an accident that California drivers had to stop and gawk at, slowing traffic to a crawl.
"Um Yes, Mr. Bristow... wha- what do you need?" Marshall fumbled with the phone almost dropping it when he first answered and Jack yelled in his ear.
"When is the next flight leaving for Moscow from LAX?" He yelled again, in his stern tone that was 'Jack Bristow.'
"Wha-wha-why do you need that, Mr. Bristow? Aren't we leaving for St. Petersburg on the 23rd?"
"Marshall!" Jack yelled flustered, as he had to slam on his breaks for a red light.
"Yes!" Marshall yelled back. "What do you need?"
"Don't ask questions! I'm leaving now; you're still coming on the 23rd! All I need right now is to get to Moscow!" He floored it through the green with angry scowl on his face.
"Is this because you made an ass-" He realized what Jack was doing, and then caught himself, "I mean oh boy, Weiss just said that in Jakarta well…you weren't exactly kind and well, Irina was upset and are you going to apologize? Say have you seen the news lately? Nice photos, Mr. Bristow…quite the handsome young man." Marshall smiled on the other side of the phone line as he typed furiously hacking into the airlines flight schedules. "I just read the one in Newsweek, 'Love in the Cold War: Falling for the Enemy' such a great title…and love story I think you two are the modern Romeo and Juliet, well except for that whole killing yourself for love thing…but wait a minute I guess, it is true because Laura, I mean Irina, your wife…she pretended to kill herself for love so that-"
"Marshall! Back on task!" Jack rolled his eyes with a big sigh as he tore into extended parking at LAX.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry…its just sometimes I ramble when I'm happy and you flying off to your love is just romantic, thinking I'm getting a little misty eyed."
Jack could hear Marshall sniffling on the other end.
"There's a flight leaving in fifteen minutes Gate 46 with a connection in Paris! One seat left!"
"Fine. Great. Thank you Marshall." Jack tried not to run hearing the boarding call for the flight already, but gave up trying to look calm and rational and budged to the front of the line.
"Go get her, Mr. Bristow!" Marshall smiled, punching his fist into the air as the call ended.
"I need to be on that flight, the one leaving out of Gate 46 to Moscow." Jack commanded to the woman behind the counter who was glaring at him.
*Make Someone Happy*
"Sir, do you not see the line behind you?" She pointed sarcastically with her finger.
"Yes, I see the line. I don't have time for lines and I don't have time for you to pull a power trip." Her eyebrows shot up as he continued. "Now, if you'd please I know there is one more seat available and I need to be on that flight!"
"I don't appreciate your tone, sir. Being nasty isn't going to win you any favors!" She spat at him causing a chuckle from the woman working next to her. "Besides that flight is full."
"I need to be on that flight!" Jack's voice started rising as his tone remained deathly calm.
"The flight is full, sir! You'll have to wait for the next flight!"
"Well, when does that leave?" Jack huffed.
"In 45 minutes." She scanned her screen, and Jack calmed down a little. "Nope, wait sorry that's full, too… There's another one, no that's full, too."
Jack felt the steam rising and about to blow.
"Listen, I need to be a flight leaving today! I need to get to Moscow, now! My wife is waiting for me! I don't care what you have to do, get me a seat!"
"Sir, it is Christmas in case you haven't noticed and the flights are full! You should have booked your ticket months ago!" She yelled back at him.
"I did! I'm supposed to be leaving on the 23rd but I need to leave now! Can't you just change my ticket?" Jack was already impatient hearing the boarding call start for the next flight.
"It doesn't work that way, sir. If there is an open seat, then yes, we can change your ticket but everyone has already checked in. There is a flight leaving tomorrow morning at 11:00 a.m. that I can book you on?"
"No, I have to leave now!" Jack whipped out his badge and added in a low, ice calm tone, "Don't make me use this."
The woman was a bit taken back and then turned red with anger, "I will not be bullied by someone who tries to abuse their power just because they have a badge! Now," She smoothed the front of her uniform, "I can put you on stand-bye and if a seat opens up, I'll call your name. Take a seat!" She commanded pointing with her finger to the waiting area near the gate.
Jack grumbled as he picked up his bag and sat heavily on the plastic blue chair.
An older man was sleeping in the chair beside him, with his mouth open, and his head tilted back. Jack glanced down at the ticket in the man's hand and noticed that the man was on the flight boarding now, to Moscow and got an idea. He reached casually into his bag and pulled out a small vile of the sleeping drug that Marshall had concocted for use on missions. A spies bag was always full of interesting things just as a grandmother's who always seemed to have everything but the kitchen sink.
Ever so carefully, he let a small drop fall onto the man's hand. He slipped the vile back into his luggage with a smile. He let a minute go by before nudging the man, who almost fell over, he was so knocked out. Jack pulled his arm so he was upright again, and waited for his name to be called.
"Ivan Moscowitz, please come to Gate 46, the plane is boarded. Ivan Moscowitz, please come immediately to Gate 46." The voice on the load speaker said.
Jack glanced over at the man's ticket again, 'Ivan Moscowitz.' He smiled to himself, waiting.
"Stand-bye passengers for flight 7644 bound for Moscow via Paris please come to the podium. Stand-bye passengers for flight 7644." The woman repeated.
Jack smiled and picked up his bag, whispering to the sleeping man.
"Thanks Ivan, you'll catch the next one."
"Well, aren't you lucky." The woman gave him a smug smile as she gave Jack his boarding pass. "Have a nice flight," She looked down at his ticket to read the name, "Mr. Bristow..." Her eyes suddenly fleeting up to his, with her mouth open, recognizing the name from the news, and then the badge, the fact he was going to Russia to see his wife, it all clicked. She broke into a real smile.
"Thanks, I'll try." Jack quickly took his ticket and headed toward the plane.
He wasn't too happy with Ivan's seat, way in the back of the plane, middle row, middle seat between two older couples. One French and the other Russian, Jack was between the two women.
As soon as he sat down, and wedged himself in trying to get comfortable, the women began whispering to their husbands in their native languages.
Jack was trying not to eavesdrop but it was obvious that he was the object of their 'secrets.' And then the French woman, with a big smile, dug into a purse Jack thought looked more like a small suitcase and pulled out two magazines, showing them to him with a sneaky grin.
"You?" She asked, trying to confirm her suspicions that he was indeed the 'one.'
The first was the Newsweek he'd already seen at his house, the second was TIME magazine, titled Special Report: 'The Romanov' with picture of Irina looking dangerous and sexy on the cover.
"Dis is you? No?" She asked in her high-pitched French accented voice, smiling like crazy. "Your wife, no? She is very beautiful!"
Jack nodded discreetly trying not to draw any further attention as a slow hum voices in the seats around them began with people craning their necks to see him.
As soon as he nodded that he was Jack Bristow and 'the Romanov' was his wife, the Russian woman squealed with delight and pulled out her own magazine, flashing it into his face.
Another TIME magazine Special Report with Irina on the cover, this one called her, 'Mother Russia' and had a picture with her gorgeous smile, same articles, just different covers. Future collector's items, no doubt.
What the hell is going on? Jack thought to himself looking at his life and that of Irina's suddenly the biggest news in the world and hottest topic of discussion. He knew that Irina had discussed with her government releasing information and photographs to suffice until she could hold a press conference but he hadn't really thought about how much press coverage their lives would be getting. He then shook his head at what a stupid thought that was.
His wife had been revealed as the daughter of Anastasia Romanov, and ruling force behind Russia, not to mention the added appeal of her life of espionage and a family with an American who was her 'mark' when she was in the KGB. Photographers had been staking out his home for weeks; he'd just been trying to be oblivious to all the press coverage.
This was going to be a long flight, Jack knew, and when the flight attendant came by with the drink cart he asked for a vodka-on the rocks. Mid-flight and a few drinks later, his new 'friends' in the seats next to him had fallen asleep.
Jack carefully tugged the TIME magazine out of the Russian woman's grasp as she was more then likely passed out, from all the vodka she'd been drinking to celebrate sitting next to Jack, the 'love of the Romanov,' she kept toasting.
Most of the planes occupants were sleeping or watching the in-flight movie, 'It's a Wonderful Life,' so Jack flipped open the cover and began reading, curious to see what TIME had to say about his wife.
When the flight attendant who'd originally given him a hard time at the check in counter came around again with the drink cart, she saw what Jack was reading and gave him a small smile with a wink when he tried to hide the magazine by adjusting his pillow.
"Would you like another drink, Mr. Bristow?" She whispered as to not wake the others.
"Yes." He replied sharply then offered a small smile of apology for being somewhat of an ass earlier. "Thank you. About early-"
"I understand why you were anxious about getting on this flight now. If I had known that you were trying to get home to her," She nodded towards the picture of Irina on the French woman's magazine with a smile, "I would have found a way to get you on this flight… even if it was booked." She smiled again.
"I thought you said you don't like people abusing their authority?" Jack looked at her in his calm demeanor with a hint of a smile.
"Well, we do take in special considerations. And I think your situation would be considered special." She smiled again. "But next time, I do suggest you work on your people skills." She laughed slightly, teasing him.
"Perhaps, you're right." Jack nodded his thanks as he took his drink.
"Get some sleep, Mr. Bristow. It's a long flight and I'm sure you'll want to be rested when you find your wife." She winked again in a way Jack couldn't tell if she was flirting with him or if that was her subtle hint at a sexual innuendo.
Irina awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed after having a nightmare. Her breathing heavy and uneven her heart racing, and damp with sweat. It was the first in more then a week since talking to Jack and Sydney about what happened in Kashmir. This was a different kind of nightmare then those.
It began with witnessing her mother's execution and she could never get to her in time and then went to Kashmir and she was actually giving birth to the baby she lost, her child with Jack and as soon as she heard him cry and held him in her arms, Cuvee came and took him away, and she was stuck in her cell screaming for the baby.
Then she heard Sydney crying and when she walked down the hall to Sydney's bedroom she saw her six year old little girl crying in the corner, looking horrified when Irina tried to go comfort her, screaming, 'You're dead! You're dead! I killed you! You're not real! You're dead!' And that's when she woke herself up, not being able to stand seeing her child in pain caused by her.
Irina looked over to the other side of the bed where Sydney was still asleep, having opted to sleep with Irina again in her bed rather then use the bed in the spare room. Lena was sleeping peacefully between them.
Irina looked at the clock, it was a little after 6:00 a.m. and Lena would be waking soon to eat. She gently scooped her up and padded into the living room to feed the baby that was now stirring in her sleep.
When she finished she lay the baby carefully into her Moses basket and set it on her side of the bed, next to Sydney. She wrote a note quickly, explaining that she was going for a run and would be back soon with breakfast. She smiled as she signed, 'Love, Mom' for the first time on note in twenty-two years. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, put on her running clothes especially for cold weather and pulled her headband down over her ears to keep them warm. She checked one last time on the baby and then dropped a light kiss to Sydney's head before making her silent exit.
*Stranger In Moscow*
Thankfully, the street crew had already been by this morning and Irina was able to run on freshly snow blown streets and side walks. The sun hadn't even risen yet, though you could see the light on the horizon turning into the dark and light purple, the tell tale sign it was about to. She zipped up her Vortex vest, covering her exposed neck from the stinging cold. Her breath was as instant cloud as it hit the freezing air and seemed to catch the snowflakes falling from the sky. She started down an old familiar path that would lead her around the entire Square, past St. Basils, past the Kremlin and Lenin's tomb, past the former KGB headquarters, through the park and back again making a full circle.
Irina's head was running rampant with so many thoughts and memories of the past and the present. Her mind kept flashing back to Sydney telling her how she'd thought for years as a little girl that she had something to do with her mother's death because she stole candy and lied.
The thought made Irina want to cry and she had to blink back tears as her feet hit the ground. The KGB had such control over her life back then. They never let her family be who they were. They took their name, their power and their fortune and then after all Irina's family had done to comply, it was never enough.
She was finally able to feel a sense of freedom when she was in America, even though she was living under false pretenses giving them bits of information, her life was her own. At least until they wanted her to return and with her refusal they'd killed her mother, taken her away from her family and then killed her baby. They'd even taken what was left of her soul at one point. She'd given them all she had, done everything they asked and still they wanted more.
When she first returned to Moscow after eleven years in her American life, she felt as though she didn't belong anymore. That somehow Russia had become the 'foreign' place to her and she wanted to go 'home' to America. She would walk around listening to the Russian being spoken around her and find herself thinking in English. She felt so alone and cold inside standing in the Square back then, watching the people of 'her' homeland.
As Irina ran past the monuments and buildings that held so much history, hers' and her countries she thought about those times under the Communist rule, her life in America and how she'd spent the last twenty years of her life changing it all. She'd taken back her life and found her family.
Her family, she repeated in her head with a small smile. Finding them again made it all worth it. She thought about her mother, and her final words, the same words she'd passed on to Sydney and Vaughn. Her own mother had died because, no not because, Irina corrected her line of thinking; she died for Irina's love of Jack and her family' and Irina wasn't going to let her mother's death be for nothing. She was going to follow her own advice and hold on to it with all she had. She missed Jack. Even with all the mean and hurtful things he'd said, she still missed him. They had a lot to talk about when he arrived for Christmas.
Now that Sydney was leaving today, time was going to crawl by. Allowing her thoughts to wandering once again to Jack and everything they'd been through in their relationship up to this point. She knew she would go crazy if she didn't have something, someone, to occupy her until her family joined her in St. Petersburg. And suddenly, she had an idea. She smiled brightly with new determination as she ran faster towards home.
The baker gave her fresh cinnamon rolls, 'on the house your Highness,' he'd said with an enormous smile.
Whenever Irina was in Moscow she would always stop by this bakery to get her breakfast after her run and once her identity had been revealed as 'the Romanov,' the baker had hung her photo from a magazine behind his counter with pride, a small sign above said, 'Proud to serve the Tsar.'
When he'd pointed it out to Irina, she suddenly felt incredibly shy but thanked him warmly for his gift and kindness before running across the street home. Her already bizarre life had gotten more insane she realized, when even the bellman in the elevator told her to, 'have a wonderful day, Empress.'
When she finally reached her place, Sydney and Lena were both still asleep and she had to laugh at the way they were both sleep; she found her camera, turning off the flash and used the streaming sunshine to take their picture. 'Her girls.' She smiled at the thought. Both girls were on their backs, right arm up against their head, left straight down at their side, both had wild hair. She saw the scent of the fresh cinnamon rolls arousing Sydney's senses when she began to stir and quietly crept over to her and lay her upper body over Sydney's, pressing her cold cheek to Sydney's.
"Ah…you're freezing!" Sydney suddenly came fully alert, but Irina remained where she was laughing. "What have you been doing?" She threw her arm over Irina's back, holding her there in the strange hug that was theirs' for these moments.
"I went for a run, Sleepy Head." She kissed Sydney's cheek with her cold lips and laughed when she felt Sydney shiver beneath her.
"Are you insane? Don't answer that." Sydney said shaking her head in continued wander when Irina laughed. "You do realize it's the middle of winter and we're in Russia?"
"Yes, of course." Irina pulled away from her grasp, "It's not that bad actually, once you get your blood pumping." She smiled.
"Are you sure that's healthy for you? I mean with your lungs and heart, isn't going from the extreme heat to the freezing cold going to harm your healing process?" Sydney snuck a peek at her sister before wrapping the comforter around her shoulders.
"I don't know, I never thought about it. But I feel fine." Irina's brows scrunched and then smiled as she made her way towards the kitchen, Sydney on her heels. "I got us some rolls for breakfast. They are from my favorite bakery here in Moscow."
"What time is it anyway?" Sydney asked before taking a bit bite of her gooey roll. "Mmm, these are good." She smiled with her mouth full.
"It's almost 8:30 am. What time is your flight?" Irina poured them both a cup of tea.
"Noon." Sydney smiled sheepishly, "I'm sort of torn."
"What do you mean?" Irina asked taking the chair next to her at the table.
"Well, I'm torn because I really want to see Vaughn, but I also don't want to leave you. I'm having so much fun."
"Sydney, I'm having fun with you, too! But you'd be crazy to pass up Paris with the man you love to stay in Moscow with your mother!" She laughed. "I promise, our fun will continue when you both fly to St. Petersburg on the 24th, ok?" She patted her hand.
"I know." Sydney giggled, "But really, Mom, this has been so amazing for me. Spending this time with you. Getting to know about your life, and mine. Our life when I was little. I love this and I'm going to miss you."
"As do I." Irina returned the smile, "And I'm going to miss you, too. Oh, Sydney," her eyes suddenly went wide, "I almost forgot. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind stopping by my club in Paris, there is something in my office I'd like you to bring back for me. If you wouldn't mind? I don't trust the mail enough to ship it."
"No, of course I'll do it, but what is it?" Sydney's interest was peaked.
"Something very special, you'll see." She smiled her famous enigmatic grin, with dark eyes of mystery.
"It's not illegal is it?" Sydney scrunched her eyebrows as she took another roll, teasing her mother with a smile.
"No! It's not illegal. I promise." Irina laughed and shook her head. "And I have something for you to give to Michael, and Bella." She added softly with a smile.
*Sleep Walk*
"Oh my god," Sydney gasped as she passed by the Café Aloha in the airport on her way to grab taxi after landing in Paris. "Dad?" She came up behind the man at the bar with several empty glasses in front of him, a bowl of peanut shells and twisting a paper umbrella in his fingers looking rather disheveled and depressed.
"Sydney?" Jack suddenly became aware of her presence, both asking simultaneously,
"What are you doing here?" Staring at each other in shock.
"I got on an earlier flight to surprise Vaughn. What are you doing here? In Paris? You're not here to spy on us are you?" She asked only half-jokingly knowing her father all to well.
"No, I'm not here to spy on you. I actually forgot you were flying in here today. I am on my way to Moscow but I'm flying stand-bye and my damn seat was bumped. So, I've been sitting here for the last four hours." He tossed the umbrella into an empty glass.
"You're on your way to Moscow?" Sydney suddenly perked up, and sat on a stool next to Jack. "Why?" She asked already knowing the reason. Her mother. Just looking at the man you could tell he was miserable.
"Well, I'm on my way to surprise your mother if God and aviation would stop conspiring against me." He raised his hands in the air, pointing towards the sky. "I've finally gotten on a flight that's leaving in an hour."
Sydney's face was glowing with her enormous smile and then fell. "Dad, you're flying to Moscow?"
"Yes, why do you have that look on your face?" Jack sat up a little straighter.
"Mom's not in Moscow, Dad. She left for St. Petersburg the same time I left for Paris." She bit her lip nervously, seeing his sudden defeat and frustration.
"Well, goddamnit!" He slammed his hand on the bar and then rubbed his temple. "I'm going to Moscow!"
"I know I'm sorry. You should have called or something Dad, mom would've have waited or at least you could have flown directly into St. Petersburg."
"It was going to be a surprise, Sydney and it wasn't supposed to take me this damn long to get here! I should have been in Moscow a long time ago if not for this damn holiday and aviation!"
"Now, Dad," Sydney was trying hard not to laugh, as she straightened his tie and smoothed out his ruffled sleepy-hair, "Don't be the Grinch of Christmas. You'll get there. Now stop drinking and stop brooding or you won't be in any better shape then the last time you saw mom." She gave him a stern look with those, 'damned arch eyebrows of her Mothers,' Jack thought, knowing she was right. "Alcohol wasn't your friend then, and it isn't now so consider yourself cut off. Now, why don't you go see if you can't change your ticket to St. Petersburg instead? Ok?"
Jack nodded as Sydney leaned over and kissed his cheek, getting up to leave.
"I have to get going if I'm going to surprise Vaughn. Have a safe flight." She smiled, and walked away before turning around, "And Dad, mom misses you, too." Her smile grew as she turned around again, loving the surprised look on her father's face.