The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2009: Part 1 Section 1 of 3
Chapter 2009: Part 1 Section 1 of 3
“Jack, when are we going home?” Dave asked as he looked up from his hand of cards.
“Later today or tomorrow.” Jack held up two fingers and Irina dealt him the requested cards. “It depends upon what the doctor says about transporting you.”
“I’m fine. When will I be able to see Julian?”
“Sorry.” Jack frowned. Irina wondered if he was frowning at his cards or what he was about to say. No, he wouldn’t frown at his cards, not with that poker face of his, but then again...she had dealt from the bottom of the deck. Ha.
“Don’t like your cards, Jack?” Irina asked, waiting. He had always hated it when she cheated. Maybe they could fight about that.
“No. Deal from the top of the deck, honey.” Jack handed her back the original cards. He smiled slightly as she slapped two cards down a little harder than strictly necessary. He was not going to fight over cards. “What’s the matter? You didn’t get what you wanted? Tell me what-“
“Um, guys?” Dave cleared his throat. “If you’re done using cards as foreplay....”
“Hmm. Never tried that....” Jack smiled and ran a card up Irina’s forearm. She snatched it away. Queen of spades. Wait a minute. She had the queen of spades. How... She flung the card at his head.
Jack laughed. He tugged at the cuff of his black shirt and pulled out the ace of spades. “Would you prefer this one? No. Hmm.” Jack reached to his other sleeve. He held up the queen of hearts. “Or perhaps this one?” Jack asked. “Because you know you are the queen of my heart.”
“Oh...” Irina smiled at her husband, taken in for a second because it was fun, after all, to play this game with this man. “Sweetie....Wait. You were cheating too!”
“So were you.” Jack shrugged.
“But you planned it - you had an extra deck-“ Irina glared at him. She had just taken advantage of an opportunity, while he had prepared for it.
“There is no substitute for proper preparation,” Jack said as pompously as he could manage. Luckily, he excelled at demonstrating that characteristic.
“Then you had better have prepared yourself for-“ Irina threatened.
“Excuse me!” Dave growled. Inwardly, however, he rejoiced. Jack had stopped joking around the day Laura died and had never recovered his sense of humor or the laughter in his eyes. A good sign, this was. He grabbed for the deck and the queen of spades and began counting the cards before dealing out another hand of poker. “Julian? Remember him? I’m worried about him.”
“Don’t worry. Sydney’s taken him in hand.” Irina smiled and looked down at her hands.
“Hello, Julian. Cards, today?” Sydney held up a deck as the guard opened the door.
“Play a hand, did you say?” Sark smiled for the cameras’ benefit as Sydney walked toward him. “Truly, given the size of your hands, Miss Bristow, I anticipate with great relish the day when your hands play with m - Aack!” Sark gurgled as Sydney grabbed his collar a little more tightly than was strictly necessary.
“Let me explain something to you. Apparently your hair color is indicative of your brain power if you think talk like that will get you anywhere.”
“You promised in that cave-“ Sark coughed and Sydney let go. It was not to her benefit to kill him. Yet.
“I made that promise for that situation. I will fulfill that promise when my father comes home and it’s appropriate. This....” Sydney tossed the boxed deck on to the table.
“This situation requires renegotiation.”
“I don’t renegotiate. Bad precedent.” Sydney leaned against the wall.
“According to whom?” Sark leaned as well. Mirroring another person’s body language, Irina had lectured them, might inspire an unconscious sense of trust. It certainly could give a false impression of intimacy to those watching.
“My father. Occasionally, he would take an interest in my life and put his foot down about something and-“
“Occasionally? As if Jack Bristow didn’t have you tailed or monitored every second of your life?” Sark scoffed.
“What? Do you know that?” Sydney asked sharply.
Sark shook his head. “Logical deduction. The man is, as you Americans so charmingly say, a control freak. And he must have had anxiety that the Soviet Project Christmas might steal you, being as you were, bred for the business. Therefore, you were under surveillance. I bet there are tapes in Jack’s vault of your first date and prom and every dance recital and---”
“I....” Sydney frowned. “Well, as I was saying when I was so rudely interrupted-“
“With what? A notion that upset the picture you had of your life?”
“I suppose it’s better than having a blank canvas for your life,” Sydney said with mock sweetness and a broad smile.
“Touche.” Sark inclined his head and wished for an aspirin. He enjoyed sparring with Sydney, but sometimes she gave him a headache. What had he thought he was going to gain from making Vaughn jealous? Oh yes. Amusement, Sark remembered. “Now, what were you saying?”
“What the hell is she doing in there with him?” Vaughn asked. Weiss handed him a pencil. “What’s this for?”
“Jack breaks pencils into little pieces when he’s agitated,” Weiss reminded Vaughn. “You oughtta try it.”
Sydney rolled her eyes. “My point is this. You should have set terms before you agreed to help me. You didn’t ask for any concessions. You just agreed to our little project. Therefore you have to live with the situation you created.”
“You are, of course, absolutely correct. What is wrong with me?”
“Let me get a pencil and we can start making a list of all of your defects. It would no doubt be much more entertaining than cards.”
“Jack...” Dave looked down at the cards in his hand. Well. “When can I see Julian? I need to tell him the truth, but before that I need to assess his personality and ability to accept information that is not...”
Jack shook his head. “As I said, I’m sorry, but not very soon. I don’t want to call in my markers to get him out to the hospital in LA and you’re not in good enough health to be anywhere but the hospital. He’s not going anywhere. He’s safe. He can wait until you are well enough to get into the office.” And he had to use those markers to hasten Dave’s reinstatement, smooth his debriefing and ensure that his unwilling cooperation with the Soviets was not classed as treason. Small details like that. He rearranged his cards. He had crap.
Dave opened his mouth to protest. “I could speed up the rehab process or-“
“Stop it. You can’t.” Irina cut him off.
Dave had been the worst patient ever. That time he had spent at their house recuperating from appendicitis, she had debated about smothering him with a pillow more than once. He had been stubborn and impatient, pushing when he should have allowed his body to set the pace of activity. Nothing at all like she was when she was injured, of course, she mused as she assessed her cards. A good start. She had learned then the best way to handle a sick man was the same as handling Sydney at two. Distraction. “Dave, the doctor says you can have jello today. Red or green?”
“Red,” Dave answered immediately. He wrinkled his nose. “Who wants green? It doesn’t taste like anything.”
“Neither does the red.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Or nothing real, anyway.”
“Speaking of real...” Dave laid his cards down on the hospital tray. “Full house.”
“I do so love what you’ve done with the place,” Sydney noted as she stood up straight. Time to get the show on the road.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” Sark smirked and waved his arm with a flourish. “It is charmingly decorated in early cinder block with a soupcon of bleakness-“
“Whatever. Control yourself, Robin Leach. I have no interest in the lifestyle of the formerly rich and infamous. Do you want to play cards?” Sydney smiled at Sark.
“Hmm. What are my options? Option A is to sit here and stare at the wall.” Sark smiled as Sydney walked to a chair at the table in his cell.
“And wonder what truths Uncle Dave has to tell you?” Sydney looked startled as Sark held out the chair for her. She sat down gingerly.
“Excellent point. Option B would be cause a problem of some kind, just to amuse myself.” Sark pushed Sydney’s chair in with as loud a scraping noise as he could manage. Juvenile, he knew. It wasn’t as though Sydney could complain about that, given that she came to visit him solely to drive her boyfriend insane. Now, that was amusing. He sat down with some anticipation and made certain that eagerness would show on his face for the edification of those watching.
“And worry about what’s going to happen to you when my father finds out?” Sydney shuffled the deck and then made a bridge with the cards.
“Ah then. Option C it is. Cards with Miss Bristow.” Sark smiled and said in a louder voice. “I am, as always, willing to be completely and utterly at your disposal at any and all times.”
“Are you?” Sydney couldn’t help but smiling at the mischief in Sark’s eyes. In that moment he looked like any other young man about to play a joke, instead of the malicious, conniving... No. That wasn’t quite true. He was malicious and conniving, but he was also changing. That protocol had opened a door. A door that encouraged him to find amusement in participating in this little project. She would use that fact. Not that using it made her conniving herself or anything. “Do tell. I can’t wait to hear what you are willing to do for me.”
“Ladies choice, of course. Whatever you want...” Sark smiled slowly.
“What did he just say to her?” Vaughn said through clenched teeth.
“They were talking about the prom before,” Marshall noted as he walked up and saw everyone watching the Syd and Sark show. The real show, of course, was the look on Vaughn’s face. “Did you guys go to your prom? My mom and I-“
“Not now, Marshall.” Kendall patted Marshall on the shoulder. Marshall sidled away, worrying about pink fur handcuffs. “Vaughn’s in a fit because his girlfriend’s having more fun with Sark than she is with him lately.”
“How do you know-“ Vaughn bit off his words.
“Maybe she wanted to talk about her prom.” Weiss shrugged. “Women like to talk about stuff like that. And she doesn’t have Francie any more-“
“So Sark is the next best thing?” Vaughn scoffed.
“Did you ever ask her about the prom?” Dixon asked. “Or Jack?”
“No, I, why would-“
“Jack supplied the limo driver for her and Francie that night.” Dixon smiled. “She didn’t know it, of course. ”
Vaughn blinked. There was a story there. But... “Why would Sydney talk to Sark about her prom?”
“Maybe he asked her what she wanted to talk about,” Marshall suggested. “If asking women what they want works for well, you know, then why wouldn’t it work for talking too?”
“Huh. I never thought of that...” Weiss mused.
“Me either...” Kendall stroked his bald head.
“Wait a minute!” Vaughn held up his hand. “Marshall, you know about the manual?”
“Sure. Doesn’t everyone? Even Sark-“
“Sark? You...didn’t tell him, did you?” Weiss asked abruptly, slamming his hand down on Marshall’s shoulder.
“I, um, yes. I thought he knew and...” Marshall dropped his face into his hands. “He played me, he totally played me. What’s he going to do with that information?”
“So, what do you want to talk about?” Dave asked Irina after Jack had left to get the red jello.
“Oh, I don’t know, Dave. Where to start?” Irina flung the boxed deck of cards aside. “How about....Let’s start with Julian.”
Dave leaned back and smiled. “What about him? Good kid, isn’t he?”
Irina stared at Dave incredulously. “He’s trouble.”
“Nyet!” Dave opened his eyes wide. “You had trouble with him? Right there in ... Where were you?”
“Well, it wasn’t River City,” Irina noted. “They moved us around, depending upon what lessons needed to be taught. Often times we were in Moscow. One time...” Irina smiled. “Julian decided that he should try and steal Lenin’s body to prove something...” She shook her head. “From the moment I looked into those eyes, I could foresee trouble.”
“And from the moment he started talking, you could see Jack, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, damn you. And that hair...” Irina shoved her own hair over her shoulder. “You knew I’d see...” She swallowed. “The son I wanted, but...did not choose to allow myself to have.”
Dave sat up. “What did you say?”
“I said that...” Irina grimaced. She knew what Dave wanted her to repeat. “The son I chose not to have when I chose not to tell Jack the truth.”
“Wow.” Dave nodded. “Either you are, as Jack always said, the best gamesplayer ever or you really mean that.”
“That issue is what...confused him, isn’t it?” Irina sighed. “That’s what he told me. He didn’t know what was real and what was a lie.”
“Did you?” Dave asked quietly.
“Can you tell me about my mother?” Sydney asked as she blindly created two sets of hands.
Sark nodded as Sydney dealt out the cards and her question. “If you want to know about Irina Derevko, I could be persuaded to provide you with intel. Given the right incentive. I’ve learned my lesson about negotiating with you. But your mother? I know nothing about her. And whoever she is now - the woman I saw on the mission? I don’t know who that is. Do you?”
“She’s...” Sydney bent her head to watch her hands shuffle the deck of cards. “She’s...”
“Trying on identities for size?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that she came home, she’s trying to come home to us the best way she can and...” Sydney frowned. “I’m not explaining this well.”
“Do you know what was real and what was a lie?” Dave prodded. He nestled into the pillow. He was still damn excited about the pillow.
“I... Irina rubbed the base of the ring finger on her left hand.
Dave put his hand out and touched hers. “You miss your rings?”
“Yes.” Irina admitted in whisper as she lifted her head. “I know they were just...things.”
Dave curled his hand around Irina’s. “Yes. And things are not as important as people. But sometimes, things are not just things. They are symbols that we hold dear.”
“Yes.” Irina said no more as she stared at her bare finger. A memory flashed past her eyes, one she wished she could eradicate as easily as dealing a new hand of cards. She winced.
“I wonder if any of my parents belongings or any of my things were saved,” Dave mused as he watched his old friend carefully. There was pain there, pain she was not yet ready to express.
“You mean besides that ring and your portfolio?” Irina asked. “I think Jack is looking into that.” He had set that Tippin boy to do a computer search for what remained of Dave’s family while recuperating in the hospital. The boy had been bored and Jack needed the information. A doubleplay, of course. Irina hoped he found someone. Surely, surely, something had been saved. Every family seemed to have a packrat in it; please let the Caros have one. Dave deserved to have at least one precious object returned to him. Her rings..
“Good. I’d like to at least have a photo of my parents or....”
“Or...” Irina prompted softly, jolted out of her own musings about her rings by Dave’s sad tone.
“Nothing. It’s silly.” Dave shrugged and looked up at the ceiling.
“Are my rings silly?” Irina challenged.
“Apparently not, if the thought of what happened to them frightens you.” Dave waited and saw the flare of panic in Irina’s eyes. Well, at least she hadn’t tried to hide it. Amazing. Who was she? “I meant to say, no. Of course, your rings aren’t silly.”
“Direct hit?” Irina asked, knowing she was speaking to them both. Dave was just as dangerous as Jack or herself. Right now, she knew he was no doubt planning a surprise attack for another occasion.
“Direct hit. It’s just... you know if you could pick one thing to represent your parents-“
“I don’t, actually. Maybe a gun? A knife?”
Dave nodded. Irina Derevko had to have come from somewhere. “Can’t say I’m surprised. But in my case, my mother... When I thought of her it was always in the kitchen. Cooking.”
“Jack mentioned how she would always feed him. She said he was too skinny.”
“Yeah. ’Mangia!’ she would tell him. ‘Eat, eat.’” Dave smiled.
“People think pasta is bad for you now. Too many carbohydrates.”
“Huh?” Dave blinked. “My mother would roll over in her grave. Which I have to visit...” Dave looked away.
“Think of her when she was alive,” Irina suggested softly. “What do you remember about her?”
“Her food, which she pressed on her family. It was how she showed her love. So if I had to think of a thing, it would be her cooking stuff. But most of all, her lasagna pan. She made the best lasagna,” Dave said quickly. “That is what I think of when I think of my mother.”
“Those are good memories. That belong to you. Sydney doesn’t have many memories of me, Laura, her mother, when I was home. Before,” Irina admitted.
“What will you give me if I tell you what you want to know about Irina Derevko?” Sark asked. “She’s only your mother. In some way, I suppose.”
“What do you want?” Sydney asked.
Sark leered at Sydney. “Get a pencil and I could make a list...”
“Oh stop it. Do you want chocolate? Prisoners often crave chocolate.”
“No. Nor do I want the soda your boyfriend always offers. Do you know what that’s about?”
Sydney shrugged. “It’s his thing.”
“A can of soda is his thing? Interesting symbol. Well, that’s more impressive in terms of width, if not length, than I expected.”
Sydney began to giggle. “Stop it. Now, what do you want that is within the realm of possibility?”
“A well-made cup of tea.”
Sydney shook her head. “You know they won’t let you have hot tea.”
Sark sighed. “Yes, of course. And this iced tea you Americans like-“
“You could be American too. From New Joisey...” Sydney smiled.
“Yeah, I could be. Wanna make somethin of id?” Sark asked, easily slipping into the accent.
Sydney burst out laughing. “So, you want pizza then?”
“Yes. From a real pizzeria. Do you know of any place-“
“Sure. Joey’s Pizza.” Ha.
“Deal then," Sark agreed.
Sydney smiled. Her father would be proud of that negotiation. She couldn’t wait to tell him when he got home. Soon.
What can I tell you about Irina?” Sark looked at his hand of cards. She hadn’t told him what game they were playing yet.
“Her quirks?” Sydney suggested. Something to make the stranger who’d been in this cell seem real.
“Quirks...” Sark pursed his lips. “She was careful, I think in retrospect, to avoid any obvious display of personality, of likes and dislikes. She was very opaque. But....” Sark thought for a moment. “Oh yes. She had a problem with the sound of shattering glass.”
“What?” Sydney frowned. “I’ve never seen that. Then or now. In fact, I saw her once shatter a window without any hesitation-“
“No. I mean when someone accidentally dropped a glass on the floor. If we were in a restaurant, for example, just eating and not with anyone else -“
“You mean, she was relaxed? Not engaged in some operational task or other?”
“She was never truly relaxed, Sydney. But if we were in a restaurant and someone broke a glass, she’d turn red and...” Sark shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What else? She didn’t like roses.”
“What?” Sydney asked. Her mother had loved her roses, especially that one big bush that as a little girl she’d picked flowers from...When had that been? She had been afraid. Even though Emily had been with her, she had been afraid of something. Getting in trouble for picking the flowers? No, her father wouldn’t have been angry about that; he had always said the flowers were to enjoy. Her mother had been the one who...The fear wafted back as strongly as the scent of those roses. She shook her head, unable to recall the memory, but the fear was easily accessible. She forced it down and asked again, “What?”
“You’re becoming repetitive.” Sark watched Sydney. She hadn’t touched her temple, but he knew a memory was just out of her reach.
“She can regain her memories. I told that Jack long ago.” Dave pointed towards the dvd box. “As you know, since you used your care package to help her recover the Dorothy shoes memory.”
“Yes. I don’t think I made the right decision with the red dress though.”
“Perhaps you were projecting, given that you thought about returning wearing red?” Dave prompted. Then he groaned internally. He would not do this, he would not do this, he would not--
“He’s angry about the fact that I thought about coming home but didn’t.”
“Is he?”
“Yes, don’t you think and... Don’t try your therapeutic method on me, Dave!”
“Answer the question,” Dave said softly. He could ask questions. But he would not give advice, he would not.
“Yes, he is angry.” Irina sighed. Maybe she could use that anger....
“And what does that mean?”
“Aren’t you just going to tell me or at least give me advice about what to do?”
“Nope.” Dave made the hand gesture of zipping his mouth and locking it.
“Come on,” Irina cajoled. “You know you want to.”
“You dropped a preposition.”
“As if you could care. And the correct grammar in that situation sounds stilted and awkward, therefore it is not the best choice, particularly in a conversation between friends.”
“Still an English teacher.” Was that habit or natural predilection, Dave wondered.
“Still a meddler. You know you’re dying to give me advice.”
“New leaf. Turned it over.”
“Even if I asked for the advice?” Irina hid her smile.
“Wellll....No.” Dave shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked as he returned with a small plastic cup. He sat it down on the tray and watched carefully as Dave reached for the spoon. Good. No trembling today. Even better, the amount of time he had left the two of them alone seemed to be a good idea.
“Pray for me. She’s trying to lead me into temptation,” Dave said after swallowing one small bite of jello.
“Hmm.” Jack smiled. “In your case, temptation would be either a blonde or.... meddling. Since there is no blonde in sight, Irina must be, what? Asking for advice?”
“I am done with meddling, interfering and...butting in. So help me.” Dave held up his right hand. “I lost my taste for that when I lost that finger.”
Jack and Irina looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Yeah, right,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes.
“I am serious.” Dave glared at Jack and took another bite of his jello, holding it on his tongue. He waited until it was nearly melted, swallowed and then repeated the process.
“Dave, there’s more Jello,” Jack said softly, feeling a tightness in his own throat as he watched Dave savor Jello. Savoring Jello. “Just eat normally, not too fast, see how it sits on your stomach and you can have some more. The doctor said so.”
“Okay.” Dave gave a short, humorless laugh. “This seems like a delicacy. Do you believe that?” Dave looked at the spoon. “Do you know how long it’s been since I haven’t been hungry?”
Irina looked at the empty spoon. She glanced up at Dave, wondering if he would ever regain the weight and strength he had lost. She knew he would never forget the fear of hunger. “Dave? As God is my witness, you’ll never be hungry again.”
When Dave said nothing, Jack touched his shoulder. “Dave?”
Dave allowed himself to be pulled to the present and looked into the cup of red jello. “Okay, Scarlett. Hey, good thing you came back when you did or Jack might have been telling you, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t-“
Irina took the spoon away from Dave and jabbed it into the red jello. She shoved the heaping spoonful at Dave, who automatically opened his mouth. “Chew. Swallow. Good. Another.” She spooned up more jello and shoved that into his mouth as well. “Eat....You’re too skinny.”
Jack touched Dave’s shoulder again. “Mangia, Caro, mangia.”
“I just don’t understand about the roses and my mother....” Sydney closed her eyes. She did understand. Her mother had not wanted any references to her home, just as her father had repainted all of the walls white. No more blue bathroom or yellow kitchen or red dining room... “Did she ever wear red? I do remember that she wore red.”
TBC at Chapter 2009 Part 1 Section 2 of 3