The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2011: Part 4 section 2 of 2
Chapter 2011: Part 4 section 2 of 2
Dave smiled at the two of them. “Yes. Look for the unexpected, imagine the unthinkable and...who knows what might happen?”
“It’s all about possibilities with Dad,” Sydney realized once again.
“Yes. And so, I stood there and...” Dave shook his head. “I thought, ‘Okay, Jackie, what’s my Option C?’”
“Jackie?” Sark repeated. He grinned slyly.
“Don’t call him that if you want to live, Juli,” Sydney warned, correctly reading the look on Sark’s face. “Only Uncle Dave can get away with that name.”
“If he calls me flying monkey, surely I’m entitled to call him Jackie!” Sark protested.
Dave grinned. “Don’t you get it? He says that because he likes you-“
“Clearly you need less potent pharmaceuticals, Dave, ” Sark teased. He shook his head, uncertain about the feeling inside that matched the surprising smile on his lips. Maybe it was just Dave’s effect on everyone because he didn’t recall the last time, if ever, that he’d seen Sydney this relaxed. Maybe...he should trust Dave the way his instincts were telling him to. But, the cost... “Yes, less potent narcotics are in order for you, because you are obviously delusional.”
Sydney felt the sudden tension in Dave’s body, although his face never changed its casually- amused expression. He had caught what she had - Sark’s gentle teasing, something she had not seen before. He was falling into an old pattern, Sydney would guess, a pattern Dave recognized and in which he was silently rejoicing.
“What was your Option C?” Sark asked. “If Option A was to give in to...”
“The darkness.” Dave nodded. “What do you think my Option B was?”
“Option B...” Sark thought and then looked over at Sydney. “Any ideas, Princess?”
“Well, little monkey boy, I’d say Option B was to just go on surviving- which is only acceptable when you have no other options.” Sydney smiled at Dave and then looked over at Sark. Would he get the point Dave was trying to teach him?
Sark stared at Sydney, ignoring Dave for the moment. He got the point, he just didn’t have to admit it, did he? And why was Dave nodding at him? Could he read his mind or...did he just know him so well, that even after all these years he could accurately imagine what he was thinking? Was that scary or comforting? The answer, he supposed, depended upon whether or not the person with the knowledge was a friend or enemy.
“Then Option C was to take what resources I had in my hand and my head and use them to make the best of my situation, based upon what I could reasonably expect from the future. And what I could make of the future.”
“Excuse me. I’d appreciate it if we backtracked to your prior sentence,” Sark suggested. “You thought it was reasonable to expect Jack to rescue you?” he asked, still surprised by the notion even after what he’d witnessed.
“Of course. And even if I didn’t, wasn’t it wiser to believe? Because otherwise...I really had no way out of there. So given that, I wouldn’t want to know the any other ending.”
Sydney blinked at Dave. “Did you tell this to my mother?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s just...she was helping me find a quotation from-“
“Lord of the Rings,” Sark interjected, the words popping out of his mouth before the thought entered his brain. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?” Dave asked softly, reaching his hand out to touch Sark’s chin and turn his face in Dave’s direction. “Tell me, please, Juli. Show me what you know.”
Sark nodded and spoke immediately. Only later would he realize that his quick and eager response had been somewhat Pavlovian. A learned response, buried deeply enough to evade his conscious thought, but strong enough to pop up at the proper stimulus. “I don’t know if I remember the exact words, but it was something like this. I think Sam said it. ’Sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy?’” Sark stopped speaking as he looked down at his hand cuffs. He started when Sydney touched his hand and began reciting the quotation.
“And it goes on. Remember, Julian? ‘How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.’ Remember?”
“Maybe you read my mind,” Irina suggested as she moved her hands down the long length of Jack’s hair-roughened legs, lingering on his inner thighs to see his reaction. Mmm. Very good. He might not be in his twenties any more, but elongating the process resulted in some nice elongation. Ha. That was a good one. To whom could she tell it, though? Judy or maybe that Mrs. Calfo? “Option C, which is, tonight, coming together as equals.” Irina pressed a kiss on Jack’s mouth, feeling as she did every time she was true, the truth of their relationship.
“Oh!” she whispered, pulling back. Running her hands into his hair, she slid them down to his neck while climbing onto his lap once again. “That’s our Option C, that’s why we’re here tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Jack ran his hands up and down her back, then circled her waist, brushing his fingertips along the curve of her body. He pushed his hips up, brushing his hardness against her softness, groaning as in the darkness he heard, damn it, he could hear her body’s response to him in the soft, wet sounds of flesh meeting.
Irina looked down in the darkness as she tried to see the imminent joining of their bodies. Frustrated, she surrendered the effort, knowing she did not need to see when her other senses, such as her hearing - because yes, there was Jack’s little indrawn hiss as her body enclosed his. She squeezed her thighs around his hips and began rocking slowly as if time did not matter. “Because you had other options in Panama. Option A was to make no effort to bring me back from that edge I was on and hope I’d see the darkness of my path on my own.“
“Oh, geez, not Panama. You can torture me later for that-“
“Can I?” Irina smiled and shook her head. “I think - and I may be wrong-“
“You wrong?” Jack gasped melodramatically and gripped the blanket with tight fingers. “I’m holding on because surely the earth just shook.”
“You know, Jack.” Irina tightened her hands around Jack’s biceps and squeezed until she hoped she would leave a mark, her mark on him. Teasing, threatening, taunting, tell of their love - it was all part of the game between them that never seemed to end, that went on forever, she knew as she bent her head and bit his ear lobe, before whispering, “It’s dark and quiet out here. No one would hear you scream if I shoved you over that cliff-“
“True enough. No one heard you scream the last time you came, did they?” Jack growled as he thrust up inside her.
“I turned around on the edge of that ridge. I was so disoriented and it was dark enough that I couldn’t even anticipate where the sunrise would appear and... “ Dave began to laugh. “I was weak with hunger and the shock of relative freedom after being imprisoned in a damn dark hole and...” He laughed again. “I fell over. I tripped over my own feet and fell. Unfreakingbelievable. I fell down that ridge, over rocks and brush and dirt and...my own self. I fell.”
“Were you injured?” Sark asked, remembering the various scars he’d seen on Dave’s body.
“No. I just landed on my head.” Dave smiled with genuine amusement. If you couldn’t laugh at yourself, you had no business laughing at anyone else. “On a rock. Luckily, my head was harder than the rock.”
Sark and Sydney looked at each other and then at Dave. Seeing the grin on his face, they began to laugh. Sark asked, “May we assume - knowing how dangerous it is to assume - that not only were you not seriously injured, but knowing you, you found a way to turn it to your advantage?”
“Who, me?” Dave asked. “What could I possibly have used as a weapon?”
Sark gave a short laugh. “You are the least helpless person I believe I’ve ever met. That day with Sloane in the cave.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know who you were or what you meant to me, but I knew this. Arvin was afraid. He was afraid of the chained man. The emaciated, chained, filthy man had him running scared. That...That is power.”
Dave frowned. “Of a kind. But you know what? The best power is the kind that resulted in all of you riding into that encampment to save me.”
“Or,” Sydney interrupted. “In seeking out the truth and ending up in captivity.”
“You’re talking about the power of stupidity,” Dave said self-mockingly. When Sydney slapped his arm and nearly toppled him over before Sark’s quick and instinctive grab saved him, Dave winced. Like mother, like daughter. “You’re right, of course. That kind of power inspires people, inspires them to go beyond their limits, to push and pull and sacrifice. To seek what is lost, beyond all good sense and caution.”
“You mean...” Sark sighed and melodramatically put his hands over his heart. “Love.”
Irina rested her forehead on Jack’s shoulder as they sat entwined, their gasping breaths mingling in the warm night air, momentarily satisfied with the mingling of their bodies. “Ia tebia liubliu, Jack...I love you so much,” she whispered, her voice so soft she wasn’t certain he would hear it. She could barely hear it over the pounding of her heart as it began to return to normal. Whatever normal was around him, that was.
Jack lifted his head and then her left hand to his mouth. Keeping his eyes closed, he cupped her hand to his cheek, then slowly kissed her palm three times. “I think you know...” he said into her hand. “How much I love you. I would have done almost anything to make this moment happen.”
“I think you did do almost everything in Panama. And since. Which leads me to ask...Is this the perfect weapon, Jack?” Irina whispered as she slid back and forth on his legs, straddling his hips, kissing his shoulder, then licking the base of his throat, before their lips met and hearts pounded against each others. She shifted and he moved and even satiated, they both gasped. “Tell me.”
Lifting his mouth for a moment, Jack brushed his lips against hers and promised, “I’ll tell you on our wedding day. My gift to you.”
Irina nodded in agreement. She intended to ascertain the answer sooner, but...just in case, it wouldn’t hurt to have his promise to reveal the truth. At least this time, it would not hurt the way the truth had in Panama. How she would like a do over, a do over in which she’d seen the truth sooner and less painfully. She shivered and forced down a specter of what might have been, but couldn’t resist asking now that she was safe in his arms, “If...If I’d made the wrong choice, Jack, what would you have done in the morning? Or after...it all went down the wrong way?”
“Vomited?” Jack quipped, before sighing as he briefly contemplated a scenario he never wanted to imagine again - what he might have done if she hadn’t shattered that mirror, picked up the pieces, and then taken that last leap of faith. He would have done...what was necessary. But before that, “I...might have, I just might have wept.”
Irina blinked back the moistness in her own eyes at the honesty in his words and the courage it took to express them. “I...So. Option B was to try and...capture me. All easier, than your choice. Option C was to...throw yourself wholeheartedly into human Battleship. You wanted me back that much.”
“Of course.” Jack slid his hand up her back and tugged on her hair, before twisting it around his hand. He loved her hair like this. He loved her like this, warm and soft on top of him.
“You are a romantic, Jonathan Donahue Bristow.” Irina leaned forward and rewarded Jack with a long, slow slide her lips and her body across his skin.
“But what happened next?” Sydney asked eagerly. “Tell us the story.”
“Yeah, Dave. Tell us, pretty please!” Sark said in a light, sing-song voice. He immediately blinked and then coughed, unable to look away from Dave’s blue eyes. What was happening?
Dave kept himself from smiling as additional flotsam and jetsam from Sark’s lost past drifted to shore. “Luck was on my side.”
“Luck? First a gift and now luck in this story? Who are you, Dave? Pollyanna?” Sark sniped.
Seeing the look of silent reproval on both Sydney and Dave’s faces, Sark felt an unaccustomed clench in his stomach. He had to search his mind in order to identify it, to ascertain the last time he’d felt it. It. Guilt? When was it? Years ago, almost a decade, in fact, he realized. When he was with Dave. He was certain of it. Irina allowed guilt only for failure of a task. Dave...Dave had taught guilt for moral failures. Moral?
What part did morality play in their lives? What part should it play in the life of anyone who understood how the world worked, which was certainly not by love and morality and... Sark looked down at Dave’s knee and then at his hand. He was missing a finger, but...He was still alive because of the love of a friend. Maybe...Maybe he should think about this a little more. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe the lessons he had learned from Irina and from - he admitted it now - his own fear, had been the wrong lessons.
Dave smiled and watched a faint hint of color wash Juli’s cheeks. Good; a little bit of shame and embarrassment was essential in anyone’s healthy development. Too much guilt was debilitating, but the lack of it was a sign of pathologies. Jack and Arvin were the perfect examples of that truth. And Juli was behaving as he’d expected, his erratic behavior a mirror of the riot of emotions he was no doubt feeling inside. “Sometimes someone comes into your life and it makes a difference.”
As, Dave hoped, Sydney might make a difference in Juli’s life. Dave looked at him. He’d always had a need to please those in authority, to say nothing of a desire to model himself after the strongest person in his orbit. Having Sydney bond with him had been an excellent choice. Sydney’s belief in moral absolutes, as she’d told Sark that once, was an idea Julian needed to examine. He needed some guideposts. He also needed someone strong in his life, someone permanent. “Do you agree, Julian? Do you think that we can make a difference? Do you think you can make a difference to someone, someday?” Dave waited as Sark’s face showed astonishment at the idea.
Sydney looked absently up at the sky when Sark said nothing. Francie, Danny, Will, Vaughn, Weiss had all made a difference in her life. Loss made those who remained doubly precious. “Who found you, Uncle Dave?” she asked, ignoring Sark.
“Arezou,” Sark answered. “I just realized that was the story she told me. She told me that the adults had convinced the children that the man in the cave in chains was mad, a monster who would eat them up. She found you. That’s why she had a deep-seated sense of responsibility for you. And one reason why she had that connection with you.“
“Why was she out in the middle of the night?” Sydney interjected. Sark was giving her whiplash with his seesawing behavior. Dave didn’t look surprised by it, though. And she wasn’t really surprised about the identity of Dave’s...lucky charm. Arezou was one of those people born with a curiosity that was nearly unquenchable, a desire to seek answers and even more importantly, to ask questions, the kind of person who could make a difference. She turned back to Dave as he began to tell the story again.
“She liked to sneak out of her tent and look at the stars from the highest possible point. She thought she could touch them if she got up high enough. So, she found me and I pretended to hurt my head and couldn’t walk immediately. I had to rest, you see.”
“Why?” Sydney asked, then shook her own head. “Wait. Because then you would have a chance to spend time with the girl and she’d realize you weren’t a monster-“
“Very good, Princess.” Dave grinned. “And most human beings, if brought up in a nurturing environment, have a desire to nurture others. I lucked out with Arezou. She is special today in large part because Yasmina encouraged her to be so. In any case, I told her I needed a moment or two to rest and I told her a story and-“
“The rest is history.” Sark tilted his head as he stared intently at Dave, wishing he could remember more than these flashes of warmth.
“The rest was history - the history I created.”
“You are incredibly manipulative,” Sark noted with approval. “Quite. Quite brilliant, really.” Both times Dave had been captured, he’d managed to find sources of power. Could he find sources for himself? Sark wondered.
“Was it?” Dave sighed. “Well, it worked. I hope I gave them something-“
“I know you did, at least with Arezou,” Sydney said softly, remembering her conversations with the young woman and her mother. Arezou’s spirit would have been ground into the dust without the intervention of the ‘non-believer’ as Yasmina had laughingly referred to Dave, her chipped tooth gaping each time.
“I hope so. Because it gave me more than a way to set up what I hoped would be Jack’s eventual plan. My plan - working with the children, telling them stories, telling the guards stories - helped me found my place. Helped me find myself again. It’s critical to find that sense of self. It centers you, grounds you - “
“I don’t know, Dave. You were pretty firmly grounded with those chains attached to a freakin’ cave!” Sark exclaimed defensively, knowing that Dave was trying to speak to his situation. Then he added, “A sense of immutable identity is overrated, in my opinion. At the very least, it’s inconvenient.”
“My ass is being punctured by a rock,” Jack complained, even as his hands tightened on her thighs. “Move.”
“You weren’t noticing that a few minutes ago,” Irina teased.
“I was distracted,” Jack admitted, as he lifted her by the waist and moved her, then sighed with relief. He reached for the wine, nestled into the sand and poured it into a glass. “We’ll really have to play that game you want sometime - the one where you’re the enemy agent seeking to distract me while you do something. Whatever.”
“That won’t take much. All I’d have to do is tell you what kind of lingerie I have on. Or don’t.” Irina began to laugh softly as she looked toward the dark shadows of their little nest. “Once again, I have no idea where my panties are.”
“Well, this time I didn’t have to confiscate them and throw them overboard,” Jack teased as he gestured toward the crashing waves below them and they both remembered a pink pair of panties flying toward the water. “You were out of your clothes with no arguments tonight.”
“I’m older and wiser.” Irina smiled. “The only reason to delay nudity is to tease you. Tonight, it would have just been torturing myself and I’m no masochist. But I suppose my panties are somewhere nearby...”
Jack stared curiously at her as she fell silent. Why was she fixating on those panties? Hell, he never really understood why she obsessed over certain things. Like Rambaldi, for the love of god, which was- “Ow! What was that pinch for?”
“You weren’t listening to me,” Irina accused.
“Yes, I was. You were talking about those cute Wednesday panties. Honey, if they meant that much to you, I’ll go into Costco tomorrow and buy you a new package.”
“I was talking about my Wednesday panties because...” Irina said with exaggerated patience. Sometimes she didn’t understand Jack’s sense of humor. It was...perverse. Then again, she liked his other odd, little, occasional perversities, so perhaps she shouldn’t complain. She pinched his nipple and watched his eyes widen. Good, that got his attention. “Listen. The panties.”
“Oh good lord. Are they a symbol?” Jack groaned. The only symbol in which he was interested was that ring on her finger. And maybe, the chain. Maybe. Not that he was apparently ever likely to see it again, given that---
“Yes, of course. This isn’t like the conversation in When Harry Met Sally about the fact that there are no Sunday panties-“
“Oh, I remember that movie. That’s the one-“
“Yes, yes, Jack. We already heard in Panama how you don’t believe that any real man could be fooled by a fake orgasm. Can we move on?” Irina shifted on Jack’s lap.
“Give me a little while, honey,” Jack moaned as the soft smoothness of her thighs brushed against his legs. He ran his hands up her skin and pulled her more fully on top of him, feeling as though he might never get enough. “I’m not sure I can-“
“Shut up. You can do that, can’t you?”
“Actually, I’m not sure....” Jack drawled. He tightened his hands around her waist and began to laugh for no other reason than happiness, not simple happiness, but the complexity of long-deferred and endlessly-sought joy.
Irina stared at him and began to laugh, unable to resist the joy in Jack’s eyes. “You’re babbling...” She laughed again, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder over and over. “So let me talk.”
“Why? You have deep thoughts?” Jack bent his head and bit the skin where neck met shoulder, feeling her shudder under his mouth.
“Someone has to and no more comments about depth-“
“Yeah, that’s right. We were on the fascinating topic of those Wednesday panties,” Jack reminded her.
Irina blinked in surprise. Jack’s ability to focus was remarkable, even when they were naked and...Well, she’d experienced that in Panama, after all. “Yes. Well. The tide took those away. They were passive, as they floated away. I wasn’t. I made choices and took myself away. And then...I sailed back, thinking I could just take...”
“And then you came back on your pirate ship preparing to plunder?” Jack teased.
Irina ran her fingertip along the outline of Jack’s lips. The last time she had done that they had been in Panama. “You sunk my ship and I had to come into port.”
“You didn’t have to. That was only one option.”
Dave stumbled suddenly, his body starting to weave from exhaustion. Without thought, Sark wrapped his hand around Dave’s elbow and held him up until Dave slowly nodded. “Sorry,” Dave mumbled. “So damn tired. I hate this.”
Sydney looked at Sark and they smiled at each other. Sark kept his hand on Dave’s arm, making sure Dave was steady on his feet before relinquishing his hold. He ignored Sydney’s nod of approval. He didn’t need her approval. He didn’t need anyone’s approval and only nodded abruptly himself at Dave’s soft thank you, flashing to countless visual memories, surely unimportant, of adult children helping parents in parks or restaurants or hospitals as they completed the circle of life, just as the parents had earlier helped a child to stand, then walk, then given them, perhaps, a gentle push to run.
He had been searching for power, he knew. All those years, he’d been searching for power. Needing to feel in control, needing to feel important. Hanging onto the coattails of those with power, unsure of how to acquire his own. Perhaps...he’d been searching for the wrong goal, he mused. Perhaps he needed to rewrite his own story. Irina had, after all and unbelievably enough. After all, after all she’d done and seen and survived and inflicted, after all of that, she’d ended up where she started, but in a new place. Perhaps...he could... Perhaps he should ask her. What was she searching for now? Had she found what she’d needed?
“No. You’re right. That was only one option. I’m glad you helped me see other choices.” Irina looked out at the horizon, surprised to note that while they’d been here the sun had slipped completely below the edge of the sea and the sky had blackened only to fill with star light. How had she forgotten that it was dark? It had seemed so light. She looked from the stars above to the ring on her finger. In a low, husky voice that surprised both of them, she began reciting.
The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper o’er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
“The Ancient Mariner,” Jack said quietly. “Why...? Have you removed that albatross around your neck?”
“Yes. Thankfully. In Panama, I could have limped out to sea and sunk myself.”
“The important thing is that you came home.” Jack rubbed her waist with his hand. “Why all these quotations tonight?”
“I don’t know. My mind...it’s swirling with all these thoughts and feelings and I’m trying to find the right words, the perfect words.” Irina stopped as she thought and as Jack’s warm touch distracted her from her course. This time, she thought, looking down at his fingers making invisible circles on her skin, she knew better, she knew that the course they set together was the right one, the perfect one. “This is...perfect,” Irina whispered as they touched with more than hands or lips, even as hands and lips touched with love and delight, seeking and finding, always new and endlessly familiar. “You made a perfect night.”
“Who, me?” Jack smiled as his hands encountered warm, giving, demanding flesh that pulled at him even now. He petted it gently and then ran his hands over her curves. Women were amazing and this woman was, as always, fascinating. What would she think of next? He wondered as he handed her the glass of wine.
Irina sighed as they sat at the edge of the cliff, sharing the wine between them. “You’ve given that night back to me.”
“To us. To us.” Jack clinked his glass against Irina’s. They sat there quietly watching the water rush forward and back, swirl and eddy beneath them, thinking of the past, enjoying the present, anticipating the future.
“What is next?” Sark asked.
“I want you to think about which version of the truth you want me to tell you. I can give you back your memories. Complete, unvarnished. Technicolor-“
“Is there a reason why...Is there a reason why I don’t like red? And prefer blue? If I were being honest, that is?”
Seeing the immediate regret on Sark’s face, Sydney spoke up to deflect him from self-awareness. “Honesty? Don’t strain yourself,” Sydney teased softly.
Dave blinked at Juli’s questions. He’d always been quick to make connections. Slowly, he answered, “Yes. There is a reason.”
“I...see. Or, I don’t.” Sark ground his teeth together in frustration.
“So, I have or rather, you have two options-“
“No Option C.”
“Not this time, I’m sorry to say. Not this time,” Dave said softly. “I can give you back your memory or for this one particular incident I can tell you what you need to know.”
“And only you know the full truth?”
“Besides you, yes.”
“So, my choice rests on you.”
“It rests on what you believe to be true of me,” Dave countered. “And I realize that at this point it might be difficult and perhaps your decision would be easier if we were to spend more time together and-“
Sark turned to Sydney. “What do you think?”
“Me?” Sydney blinked. “I...think this is a momentous decision and should be yours alone.”
“What would you do?” Sark pressed.
Sydney looked over at Dave and at hid nod of approval, spoke up. “I...said before that there are some memories in my life I wish I could wipe away like a spill on the counter.” Sydney made a motion as if wiping a surface. “There is nothing to be gained by the memory. All of the memories, like the smell of wetness and blood...”
“Yes,” Dave agreed softly. “All of our senses are involved in those memories, which is why they can imprint themselves so strongly in our psyches. Why they are so strong, so traumatic.”
“So....” Sark touched Sydney’s arm. “If you were me - and no wiseass remarks, for once. If you were me, you’d trust Dave’s judgment?”
“On this matter?” Sydney smiled at Dave. “Absolutely. And don’t forget - if you change your mind later, after you know the truth, he can always give you back the full memory. Hey- that’s the Option C!”
“The choice which is open ended?” Dave mused. “You are your father’s daughter. That would be-“
“Perfect,” Sark agreed. “But I want to think about it.”
“Of course.” Dave smiled. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to go home now.”
Sark nodded and turned his face quickly to hide the dismay. They were leaving? He’d be alone again. He began to walk quickly toward the door to the roof stairwell, focusing on the door and ignoring the people and the soft deep blackness above. A life lesson was that if you couldn’t avoid or evade unpleasantness - as was his usual m.o. - it was less torturous to endure it quickly.
“I see the moon-“ Dave called out.
Sark stopped so abruptly he would have fallen over if Sydney hadn’t grabbed his arm, this time. “What? What did he say?” Sark whispered.
Sydney tightened her grip on Sark’s arm. He looked stricken, caught - caught between surprise, hope, and fear. “He said...”
Dave stumped slowly and painfully over to them. He reached out and took Sark’s chin and forced it toward him. “Look at me. Listen. I see the moon...”
“And...” Sark felt his lips tremble and then pressed them together. An inexorable force made him want to continue. “And the moon sees me.” He did not understand what he was saying. And then he did.
Sydney watched the two men. Sark was...relaxing as he stared at Dave, absorbing what was it? Comfort. Yes. Dave had used the same book, the same comfort with Julian that her father had given her to use when she was small and he’d gone away on one of his business trips. Why not? It worked. “That story...” she whispered, remembering more of the Lord of the Rings quotation. “It was one of ‘the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.’”
“Good Night, Moon!” Sark exclaimed suddenly. “I remember that book.”
“I told you the story-“ Dave curled his hands around Sark’s and spoke softly.
“No, I mean, yes. I mean...” Sark smiled as he looked up from their joined hands, a natural smile that Dave returned. “I remember you telling me that story, but I also remember... Hands holding a book. My...mother’s hands. She read that story to me.”
“Yes, she did,” Dave assured him. “You told me that. And because I’d read that story to Sydney so many times and before that, heard Jack tell it to her, I could recite to you from memory. I told it to you every night for years.”
“It was...my talisman in the darkness, wasn’t it?” Sark asked. “You removed most of my memories to protect me, but that one you left in order to protect me.”
“Very much so,” Dave agreed.
Sark nodded. “Thank you.” He swallowed hard and then looked at Sydney. “Your mother had us read all of the great works of western literature so that we’d be conversant with them. Including Lord of the Rings.”
Sydney nodded. “She told me the other day when I was looking for that quotation.”
“So, I can finish that quotation, Ms. Wannabe English Teacher,” Sark told her with a small smile. “Now, I think, it means something.”
“Sometimes...” Dave agreed, “Something you’ve read doesn’t mean anything until you live through it and then it hits you.” Irina would be ecstatic that she’d taught Julian a life lesson through literature.
Sark nodded. “But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something....’”
Jack’s hand curled around Irina’s waist and once again pulled her one to his lap. Irina wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his hair. “I keep thinking that tonight...this was so special. I should find the perfect words to thank you. But I suppose the perfect words are, like the ring you made for me, the ones I make myself.”
“I suppose they are.” Jack waited. “So, you could quote yourself.”
“So, I could.” Irina smiled. “And as an English teacher, I know that the simplest words are always the best.”
“Yes. They are.”
“I will always love you.”
“Oh,” Jack whispered. Pulling Irina into his arms, he buried his face in her hair. “The first time we made love.”
“Yes. It was true then and it’s true now. I will always love you.”
Jack nodded and pressed his lips to Irina’s neck in gratitude for the return of that memory to a special place in his heart. “I...” He raised his head, then lifted Irina’s left hand to his mouth. Gently kissing her palm, then turning her hand over, he kissed the skin above and below the ring. “And I will always make forever for you.”
They sat there, as they had thirty years before, and looked at the endless expanse of ocean extending before them, as they’d thought time would, as they’d believed time would give them everything they needed. Now, wiser in the ways of time and faith and human frailty, they held each other just a little tighter. And at Irina’s request, as they rocked gently together, Jack sang the song with its new meaning to her so softly it seemed to waft on the wind around them, weaving golden strands of infinity holding them together, Irina let the day, the past go, and together they grasped forever.
TBC at Chapter 2012: Part 1