The Perfect Weapon Chapter 11 part 3 part 1

[camillecarelli]

Chapter 11 part 3 part 1

They had came down late the next morning, really early afternoon, after the night they had, as they would learn weeks later, conceived Sydney. Standing at the refrigerator, looking for something to eat, Laura had reached in and snagged two cartons of Chinese leftovers from one of her solitary meals this last week. Leaving Jack still in front of the refrigerator, she scooted over to the utensil drawer and grabbed a fork. Stabbing it into her egg foo young, she mumbled with a full mouth, "Jack, did you ever get that potting soil for me?"

"Yeah." He grimaced, "Are you really going to eat that cold?" He closed the refrigerator.

"I'm starving. You must be too," she said holding the carton out in his direction. He shook his head. "I'm sure you've eaten far worse when you're in the field," she said, resuming digging into the carton with her fork.

"Yeah, that's why when I'm at home I, personally, like to sit down at the table and use a fork and knife and eat a hot meal."

She choked and said, waving her fork around, "Well, last night you didn't use a fork and knife when you ate a hot meal."

"Last night? Last night, I didn't even eat dinn….."

The look of surprise and shock on his face as he got the allusion to the table activities from last night was so comical, so ridiculous in light of his behavior, that she began laughing uproariously. Life was good, so good. She laughed so hard at his discomfiture and then his scowl, she dropped the carton on the floor, the food spilling out. "So, Jack, want to take off your clothes again and pick this up for me? Nice and slow? Using your own chopstick….?"

"Oh…stop it," he said, looking down. She smiled seeing the tinge of red in his cheeks. Would she ever understand the puzzlebox of his mind? Now, especially since the night of the jewelry, he could be the most astonishingly-intense, demanding, dangerous lover…but then he would blush about it the next day. Was the man the perfect combination of…everything she ever wanted, or what? Taking pity on him, she bent down and wiped up the mess as she asked, "Can you get the soil out into the garden for me?"

He said sure and began walking out to the garage through the back door, then stopped to suggest, "You know - -you could come with me and pick up all that junk from your purse that spilled in my car last night." 
"'That spilled?' Your turn for passive voice, Jack? As I recall, you threw my purse so hard you broke it and the contents spilled everywhere. The purse didn't fling itself, you know," she teased, her hand on her hip, smiling at him, at the memory.

"Hmm, and the glass didn't shatter itself, you know," he said, putting one hand high up on the doorframe. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

She giggled and bit his bicep. "No. I needed your, um, help to shatter it, didn't I?"

"A little. I mean, I suppose you could do it on your own, but that's not half as much fun."

"No, it's not."

"Unless I get to watch, that is."

She rolled her eyes, then giggled again. Then said archly, "Well, I could come with you and crawl around picking everything up like I started last night."

"Well, you could….But somehow I think you might want a little…rest before we start that up again or was I mistaken about the wince I saw when you got out of bed this morning?"

"Oh, stop it. And don't apologize! I swear…." She added when he opened his mouth and got that look on his face. "That's what this is about this morning? You feel guilty? Don't be ridiculous! I'm tough, remember? Some muscles are just a little sore, that's all."

"Well, okay," he said looking down and then up again, wheedling, "I was hoping that we could make out a little in the car - like the old days."

She sighed, "Oh, I suppose. If it will make you happy. I mean, I did vow for better or worse, didn't I?"

"No, that's okay. Don't bother, don't trouble yourself, I'd hate for you to do something so…terrible, so arduous, so onerous, on my account," he heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"Never use one word, when you can use three, huh, Jack?" She teased, sliding her arms away from him as he scooted forward slightly.

Looking at each other, they grinned. She shrieked, "I'll beat you!" and shoving him aside, took off running. He scrambled after her, not really trying to catch her. She knew from their frequent morning runs with Dave that he sometimes liked to drop back and watch her butt in motion. Now he reached out and pinched her butt over and over.

Gasping with laughter, starting to lose her balance by the time she reached the corner, she ignored his warning, "Laura! The d--" as she turned quickly and then careened right into the closed door. s***! She'd forgotten about the door, she thought, laughing hysterically at her own foolishness as she fell backward. Jack caught her, or rather his body cushioned her fall as they landed on the driveway in a tangle of limbs, Jack making a loud, exaggerated "Whoosh!" noise. Good thing she hadn't been running too fast - she'd wanted him to catch her, after all. She twisted around on top of him, to see him shaking his head.

"Well, you caught me," she laughed.

"I tried to tell you--"

"I know, I know. I just wanted to win."

"Well, it cost you."  
"I'm willing to pay the price."

"Honey," he said with a ridiculously-pained expression as he tried, not too hard, to push her off of him, "You're not the one paying the price. There's technically no cost to you. It may have escaped your notice, but I'm the one on the bottom here."

"Oh, it hasn't escaped my knowledge, Jack," she laughed as she twisted around and straddled him.

He rolled his eyes. "It may have also escaped your notice, but we are on the driveway…."

"So?"

"This is not very comfortable. And the surface is hard and a little warm in this heat…."

"Which surface? Which heat? The concrete or me or you?"

"All three. Get up," he demanded, trying to buck her off.

"No. Make me," she laughed, her hands pinning him at his shoulders.

"Okay, Miss Modesty," he said with a gleam in his eye and began unbuttoning her shirt.

"Jack!" she protested breathlessly and jumped off of him so fast, she misbalanced and fell on her butt.

"Are you okay?" Jack said, standing up, brushing off the back of his pants.

"Oh, I'm not hurt," she said, rebuttoning her shirt.

"I know. You're…" "Tough," they said simultaneously.

"Too bad, though," he said, stroking his chin in an imitation of her, "Too bad. Because if you were not so tough, if you were hurt, I'd have to kiss wherever there was a bruise or a -"

"Hmm. Maybe I'm not as tough as I think."

"No?"

"No. After all, I landed on my butt and as I recall from last night, you are a very good, no make that, excellent kiss ass, so….." He burst out laughing. Reaching down, he held out a hand. She grabbed it and leapt up into his arms. "This," he said, still laughing as he tilted her chin up with his hand, "This is what I want to kiss this morning."

They opened the door and went into the garage, dim and cool even in the bright sunlight. Chatting, laughing, kissing, reminiscing about the days when they would make out in the back seats of cars, they scoured the front and back for all the detritus of a woman's purse. Jack stopped talking abruptly when his hand encountered a small blue case under the back of the driver's seat. His entire body stilled, glad she was currently in the front, groping around under the seat. He began to open his mouth, then closed it. Ducking his head, he wanted to laugh, remembering the conversation they had had when her doctor switched her off of the Pill because her blood pressure was too high. How he had said he did not think the diaphragm was a good option for them because they tended, well he tended, to be impulsive. He had offered to use condoms, but no, of course not! Laura wanted to be the one responsible. Little Miss Responsible, he had laughed then. Well, Little Miss Responsible, Little Miss-Five-Year-Family Plan, as he sometimes called her when they were arguing over when to start their family, had forgotten her responsibilities and her plan last night, hadn't she? He wanted to laugh.  
Then, wedged in between the seats of the car, he had winced. Oooh, boy, she would be mad. So damn stubborn about her plans….Maybe….maybe, he should just stuff it in her purse and hope she forgot all about it. After all, it was only one night. What were the odds? And what could they do anyway, if she was pregnant? It was a little late to close the barn door…he almost laughed aloud remembering her running into the door…When she got her period, he would tell her and they would laugh. And maybe he should cut a door way from the garage into the house one of these days?

He stuffed the blue case in her purse and said casually, "I think we've got everything. Why don't you go in and get breakfast on the table while I get that potting soil out of the car?"

"Okay. One last kiss…" She popped up over the seat, surprising him, and he almost dropped the purse. Quickly glancing down to make sure the clasp was closed tightly, he looked up again. Seeing her happy face, he leaned forward as did she and they gave each other a soft kiss. Breaking apart they sighed happily.

He touched her face tenderly and asked, "Are you really going to eat that cold Chinese for breakfast?"

"Sure. I like cold egg foo young."

"Blech. Just toast for me."

"Just toast? I think you need some…protein after last night. Need to build up your strength and all, don't you? Aren't you a little…depleted?"

"You're sore. I'm depleted. I'm thinking a nap and a soak in the tub later today? Together." He grinned.

"Oh, you…." She said, traced his smile and bopped him on the head as she left the car. He climbed out of the back seat and went around to the trunk to get out the stinking potting soil.

He tossed the purse into the trunk when she popped back in to ask, "Jack, what is the shovel doing in the middle of the yard?" Why did she keep popping up like that? She was going to give him a heart attack before he got the freakin' diaphragm upstairs. He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. Hand on hip, tucking her hair behind one ear, she frowned, "And last night - what was that beeping sound?"

"Oh," he laughed. "I forgot. I buried the beeper in the garden."

"You…what?" Sometimes, she just did not understand him - what if someone had tried to contact him for work?

"That idiot kept beeping me, so I buried the beeper in the garden." As if that was perfectly normal behavior, she marveled. Maybe he could just walk away from the game. He continued, interrupting her thoughts, "Then I could still hear it beeping and I got mad…and threw the shovel."

"That temper of yours…. But you buried your beeper in the garden….You buried…? But that means, he might have been trying to contact you last night and---"

"Who cares? If it was a choice between that jerk and…eating a hot dinner, I'd take the hot dinner any time," he leered at her. She laughed. He continued, "Last night I was a little busy, if you'll remember. How soon," he sighed and rubbed a hand across his brow, "How soon they forget…all my hard work. All for naught."

She giggled and started toward him, when she stopped, hearing the phone ring in the kitchen. "I'll get it. It could be that idiot calling and ---"

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Come here and---" 
"Later!" she said laughing and darted out again, calling over her shoulder, "I'll get the phone. But you did remember to buy the right kind of potting soil, didn't you? The kind with the fertilizer already mixed in?"

Looking down to check, he almost choked when he saw the diaphragm spilling out of the purse onto the bag. Biting his lip first, he yelled out, "Oh, yeah, we definitely have the kind with the fertilizer already mixed in."

"What were you smiling about when you came in?" she asked curiously after he hung up the phone. She had left the room when he began speaking but then had eavesdropped on his end of the conversation with her equipment in his office. Hearing him start with, "I am not going to Cairo, and that's final, I don't care what the woman wants or how long I've known her," she made the connection she needed. He had mumbled in his sleep last night as he sometimes did when he was deeply exhausted and as usual he spoke in the language of whatever area with which his thoughts were consumed. She thought he had spoken Arabic, but the Arabic-speaking world was too large. Now, however, she knew the location and therefore knew of the contact in question, it must be Jack's long-term contact. The CIA was correct - the woman had turned double. Then her thoughts had returned to the conversation on the phone, biting her lip to prevent her sigh of relief when she heard some initial backtracking on the part of the supervisor. Jack's bluff had worked, as usual. And he still had the encryption idea, as a backup. But the whole crisis had proven moot a few days later when Jack had received word that the woman had been killed in one of the street brawls common to Cairo markets. How…unfortunate. How terribly unfortunate that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time. For that woman and that idiot of a supervisor. How fortunate for her and Jack. Timing was everything, as Jack was fond of saying.

"Oh…just remembering last night. It was amazing and fun and…. special, wasn't it?" He asked, swinging her around for a kiss.

"Mmm, very special. Special does not begin to describe it. I'll never forget it."

"Me either." And they would not.

He gave her a last kiss and grabbing the purse from the counter, said, "I'll put this away if you'll finish making my toast?" She nodded absently, obviously thinking about something - he hoped she was not thinking about the contents of the purse - as she set the table while he went upstairs. He put the case back into the medicine cabinet and hoped she did not realize she had forgotten last night. Really, it was no big deal, even for someone with her mania for planning, her lack of flexibility. Well, mental flexibility that is, he thought with a grin. So, they started their family a little earlier than they planned. Big whoop.

He had loped downstairs. She had given him toast. Sat on his lap, fed it to him, while he fed her the cold Chinese. "Mmm, see, you're still earning points with the teacher, aren't you? But you're starting at the wrong end…." she giggled as he kissed her neck.

"Bend over and I'll show you…" he had said, laughing.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked later, seeing the grin on her face as they sat, eating, in her cell. Knowing he probably had a goofy smile on his face too. But it felt…good, for once, he just wanted a moment….

"Just wondering - are you still as good a…kiss ass as you used to be?" she whispered as softly as possible, leaning forward.

His eyes opened wide, heat flared briefly in them. She had him….Then his eyes narrowed. Oh good, she thought with anticipation, what would he say? She had him. The game was beginning….. "A good kiss ass? Gee, I don't think Kendall would think so…."

"Kendall!" she bit her lip to keep from shrieking with laughter. "Yuck. I hope not!" 
"On that horrible note, let's get back to work," he suggested. As they reviewed the documents, analyzed the data, he said eventually, "Where did the money go,anyway?"

"Always follow the money trail," she agreed absently.

"Yes. How, where, who misappropriated it?" he asked, thinking he liked that word, misappropriate…Mmissss aaaa PRO preeee A TED ….the way it felt in his mouth.

DING! Went her brain. Ha, she had him. Had him, had him, had him. Three blinks, Ha! DING, DING, DING! Three cherries and Jackpot! Take this, Jonathan Donahue Bristow. "You like that word, don't you?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" Every hair on the back of his neck stood up, every nerve came to quick attention. He had been too relaxed…..and now he was trapped, a prisoner of his own actions, his own desire, his own weakness. Every instinct told him to run, run like hell. Now, now. Danger, danger - he swore he could see the word in bright, blinking neon letters…blinking. Oh, s***. Payback. Resignedly, he raised his eyes to hers, even as he forced his face to blankness. "What do you mean, Irina?" he asked calmly. Idiot! He wanted to smack himself in the head. She would take that as a cue. Well, that was how he meant it, if he were being honest with himself. He wanted to play this little game, wanted to take this little trip down memory lane with her. He wanted…

"You like that word. Misappropriated. Misappropriated." She said it slowly, twice, drawing it out. With her accent deliberately thick. He licked his lips. Stopped himself from moaning.

"Oh, do I?" he asked softly, staring at her mouth, until she too darted her tongue out to her lips.

"Oh, yes. The hmmmmmm of the m…." she whispered, her lips pursed at the end, her eyes on his face.

"The soft hisssss of the s…" he whispered, with his tongue slightly between his teeth, his eyes still on her mouth.

Oh my, she had missed this game. Much more than the quotations game….No, this game did not require her to stay up 'til 3am studying, reading, memorizing, because no Cliff Notes would work in the quotations game with Jack. No, nothing could be that easy. But this game…all she needed was what was in her already, what was in him, what they became together. One of their perfect games.

"The 'aaaah' sound leading to the soft puff, puff of the air on the first p…." she whispered.

"The hard r after the second…" He said. Then they both stopped, breathing hard.

She took a deep breath, seeing his eyes drop to her breasts. Spoke softly, "Then the finish, the end, the t-e-d that should be soft, but you can make it… hard. If you…want. Hard again. A hard…climax. Misappropriated."

Then together they said, "Misappropriated." He closed his eyes, enjoying, for a moment, the throbbing of his pulse, the throbbing of his body. Shook his head. He was pathetic. He had just gotten hard over the word 'misappropriated.' For the love of God. He was so weak. And she was so good. She'd had him. Point to her this time. Might as well just give in, this time. He opened his eyes. Caught the smugness in hers, the heat behind it. His eyes flicked down, saw the hard tips of her breasts against the black tank top, thought idly, well, here was another tape to destroy. Still looking, he licked his lips and then looked back up at her.

She said softly, "I bet I know what you want to tell me to do?"

"Do you?" he asked. 
She blinked once.

He burst into laughter. "You're right. I do. I…do…" The word trailed off as they both remembered another time they had played this game. She had him again, as long as she did not get lost in this memory as well. So special….

"I've got an idea for a game," she had said, huskily, lifting her lips from his as they kissed on the beach, behind a sand dune. The moon high overhead, the vague scent of red wine on the blanket where they had accidentally spilled a glass when they reached for each other, the flickering of the candles they had stuck in the sand.

"Oh? I'm kinda enjoying this one," he responded absently, as he kissed his way down her neck.

"It's a….word game, Jack," she said in a sing-song, teasing voice. Knowing she had him.

"A word game?" he said, raising his head. Then smiled ruefully at the triumph on her face. "Okay, I'm a sucker for word games. You know it. I know you know it. So, you've got my attention. What is it?"

"Let's figure out what a word tells us to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's try the word…lascivious," she murmured, staring at him.

"Lassss - civvv --- eee---us?" he drawled, catching on.

"Yes, that's it. Doesn't that word just make you want to…lick something?" she said softly, then darted her tongue out to wet her lips.

"Geez!" He stared at her for a moment, then smiled. Oh good, she thought. His turn. "Good game. Good idea. The way your mouth moves around the sounds…" he began as his mouth touched hers, his lips first soft, then growing firmer. "The way the lips," he took another kiss from her eager mouth. "The tongue," he said as his slowly, so slowly, delved into her mouth until she was pulling at him with her hands. "The roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks….," he continued as his tongue returned to her mouth, as hers entered his. He sighed, she sighed. "And of course, for you, there's the teeth," he murmured with a smile in his voice as he gently, slowly, bit her bottom lip and rolled it softly between his teeth for a moment as her breath hitched. "Yes, as we…speak, the lips, the tongue, the teeth, the mouth, it all interacts. Almost like a good kiss, isn't it" She reached out for him, as he pressed his mouth to hers. "Words can be so….sensual," he said in that purring voice. She shivered. "Sensual - that's a good word too, isn't it?"

"What does that word tell you to do?" she asked, staring at him.

"Hmm, the sounds are so….round and soft in that word. Sensual," he said slowly, so slowly that she had to clench her thighs together. He reached out a hand, slowly, and as she watched began tracing the outer curves of first one breast, then the other. Then both hands came up and he began drawing ever smaller circles on each one, until she was gasping, nearly ready to beg him to just touch her aching nipples.

"How about…salacious?" she asked gasping, trying to find her way in the haze of her mind. Lost, she was lost, she needed….

"Yeah, doesn't that word - salacious - just roll around on the tongue, in your mouth, like something good to…eat?"

"Hmm. Something you want to suck or savor slowly?" He groaned. She rubbed her body against his, asked, "What's the difference between sensuous and sensual?"

"Hmm, continuing your line of logic, I guess sensuous - with the s on the end would tell us to suck and sensual - with the l on the end -- would tell us to lick, right?"

She whimpered. He groaned. "Laura, I think that's enough of that game. I'm ready…."

"Me too!" she said and began clawing at his clothes.

He rolled off of her and stood up. Holding out his hands to her, he waited impatiently. "Well, stand up."

"Jack!"

"C'mon."

"I am not standing up so you can undress me and do…who knows what…just standing there. In the open. In public?"

"Who cares? I'll say please," he said with a smile and then reached his hands out to her again.

"Maybe…I was wrong," she commented absently, staring at his arousal, at his bare arms below the short-sleeves of his dark t-shirt.

"You. Were. Wrong?" He said incredulously as he sat down with a melodramatic plop. He repeated, "You, you were wrong?" He cracked up and then made this completely obnoxious horn-like sound with his mouth. Then she smiled, relaxed. He had been oddly nervous tonight, almost edgy. She did not know why….her bugs had recorded nothing that would warrant the way he was acting. Maybe it was just male PMS, she thought with a smile, even as he made that sound again.

"What. Was. That?" she asked frostily.

"Stop the presses. Alert the media. Laura admits she's wrong about something. A red letter day. What's next, an apology? Or even more shocking, get out the dark red ink, she's going to eschew stubbornness for once and be flexible on some issue?"

She started to tease him about using the word 'eschew', opened her mouth to say, 'Who uses eschew in casual conversation?' then stopped. Jack did. Jack talked like that. So she leaned over and bit his ear lobe instead. "Oh…shut up, you idiot. Or I won't tell you."

"My lips are sealed," he said, making the universal gesture of zipping his mouth and throwing away the key.

She smiled. "Your lips are sealed. Hmm. I hope not," she said and gently pushing him over, bent over him. She slowly licked the seam of his lips until they opened for her. He put his hands into her hair and spread it around them as they kissed. She lifted her head and he went to pull her back, murmuring, "Laura…."

"Do you want to know how I was wrong?"

"Hmm. A hard choice. Your lips or your admission of error? Hmm, hmm, hmm…." He murmured teasingly, as his fingers quickly opened the buttons of her shirt.

"Jaacck. What are you doing?"

He looked up, as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it aside. "You need me to explain it to you? Well, honey, when a man and a woman love each other…" he said teasingly, as he unhooked her bra and also tossed it away. 
"What if someone comes?" she asked, looking down at herself. How did he do that to her every time? A total lack of willpower on her part. That gorgon of a sex teacher at the academy would flunk her for sure if she could see her! Oh well, that was one 'F' grade she would not mind getting.

"Oh, someone's going to come, alright…" he said, lifting one eyebrow, then continuing as she shook her head in amusement, "I'm hoping both of us are going to come…"

"Jack! We're out here, in public…." She giggled helplessly. She was such a…dork around him, to use that silly American word.

"Oh, no one's around. It's after midnight on a weekday. And if anyone's around, it's just couples like us, looking for privacy. At least I'm hoping they're looking for privacy. My days in, I mean, I'm not into the group thing."

"Yeccch."

"No kidding. Who wants the object 'for comparison purposes only' right next to you? Ugh. Not good for the ego."

"Hmm. Yeah, Jack. Your….ego is so small and fragile," she said slyly, as she reached a hand down and stroked him through his jeans.

"Well, you're the one with the mania for mirrors. I worry sometimes about that. You know 'objects in mirror are smaller than they appear?'"

She laughed, countering with, "I thought that was 'objects in mirror are closer than they appear'?" even as she continued touching him. Then looking back up, she frowned. "How is it that I'm half undressed and you're not?"

"Easily corrected," he said quickly and standing up, pulled off his shirt and let it fall. She licked her lips, watching the moonlight hit his body, highlighting the hills and valleys of his musculature. A beautiful man, truly. She was so lucky he was her assignment. So lucky. "Well?" he said. She stood up and never taking her gaze off his chest, began caressing him. "Mmm, um, Laura?"

"Yes?" she said, half-listening. "Should I choose lascivious or salacious?"

"As, oh, honey,…." he moaned as her hands moved over his chest and shoulders, then her mouth began licking his chest, suckling on his nipples then suckling on the pulse point in his neck, "As nice as your use of vocabulary is, this isn't what I meant, when I said, 'well'."

"Huh?" she asked. "What?"

He put his hands at her waist and set her back from him. "Laura? Pay attention, okay? I meant, that you should stand up and take off your jeans too."

"Too? I don't see you--- Oh!" she exclaimed as he unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them and shoved them down. "Oh, I see….You weren't wearing any underwear?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Ehh, why bother?" he said, shrugging, as he reached over and unbuttoned her jeans. Putting his hands inside to shove them down, he stopped, "Oh, what underwear do you have on? You always want me to pay attention to that, don't you?"

She began to giggle. "Definitely not sexy or even pretty this time. Definitely not sensuous or sensual either! You didn't give me time to change or put on the chain you were in such a hurry, wanting to be spontaneous, remember? Your hurry is going to cost you," she warned. He shrugged and smiled. She laughed, "These were a joke gift from Dave's latest girlfriend when she found out I'd never had a set."

"Set?" he asked curiously as she stepped out of her jeans and kicked them aside. "They look perfectly ordinary to me…" he said and then burst out laughing when she turned around and bent forward, angling her pastel pink butt at him. "Wednesday? Wednesday!" he said gasping with laughter. "Aw, geez, Laura, kinda killed the moment a little though," he chuckled, motioning downward as she looked over her shoulder.

"That's easy enough to correct," she laughed and slowly wiggled out of the underwear, drawing his attention to her curves. Turning around she reached down and caressed him, "See - you're easy."

"Mmm, with you I'm always easy. Just yours for the taking…" he murmured, smiling, as he pulled her up against him for a deep kiss.

She pulled back, looked around wildly. "Jack, we're standing up, anyone could see us!" she protested and sat back down on the blanket, holding her hand up to him. He shrugged and knelt down, between her legs. "See, that's what I mean, what I was talking about…." she said disjointedly as he began moving his mouth over her neck and chest.

"Salacious and sensual….What were we talking about….." he mumbled. Then his head snapped back up and he braced himself on his arms. "Wait a minute….We were talking about how you admitted you were wrong…Let's go back to that! I'm willing to wait in order to hear this," he said with a grin as he levered himself off of her and lay down against her side, his hand tracing little circles on her body, as he whispered, "Sensual…"

She rolled her eyes and reached for him. "Oh no, you don't!" He gulped as she reached down and circled him with her hand, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Laura, stop it or I'll stand up, pick you up and we'll do it standing right there for God and his closest neighbors to see. I mean, I don't care, but…." He said with a warning smile.

She withdrew her hand with a pout, then smiled, "See, that's what I mean. Exactly what I mean. You're not shy when it comes to this stuff…."

"'This stuff'? What a way with words you have, Laura, for an English grad student," he teased. "Can't you even say 'making love'? I think you are the shy one! One of these days, you'll surprise me and--" He laughed when she bit him and kissed her head. She ducked down, then leaned her head against his chest, rubbing her hair against his bare skin the way he liked.

"Well, you're not shy when it comes to…being in public. How is that?" she asked, truly curious. He shrugged, said nothing. There was no way he was going to tell her, ever, that the first time he'd had sex he and Dave had been very junior agents on a mission in Cairo. A bunch of other older agents had coaxed him and Dave into going to a party with local contacts and agents that had…well. It was the late Sixties, after all. He had lost his virginity in a room full of …well, it did not matter. No one was watching him after all, they had their own…issues. And the woman had become his contact, he had gotten to know her over the years. But that night, he and Dave had stumbled out together, their eyes wide, their small-town upbringings not preparing them for anything like this. But the night had effectively removed any inhibitions he had possessed.

Then he realized she was still waiting and he smiled, teasing. "Just another aspect of the complexity of my personality, I guess. Or so you say, I think I'm a pretty simple guy."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. You're hiding something and someday, someday…."

"Good luck. Better men than you have tried and failed to steal my secrets," he laughed and kissed her, missing the downward flick of her eyes. "Although," he added when he lifted his head, "You do have an advantage…" 
"What is that?" she asked, biting her lip.

"I love you," he said softly. Then she watched as a touch of nervousness returned to his face. "Laura, do I tell you enough how much you mean to me? How lucky I am…."

"I thought you did not believe in luck," she countered, stroking his face with her hand.

"No. I don't. I wonder though, if there is destiny, sometimes. Now that you are in my life. I felt…." He stopped, looked away.

"Go on," she whispered, her heart, her hope, her heat in her eyes as she traced his mouth with her finger. "Don't stop talking. Tell me."

"I felt so cold, so alone, so lost. Then…I met you and…" he looked down and she waited. Bending her head forward, she kissed his cheek and then pulled back. Knowing it might be easier for him to speak his heart if she was not looking straight at him, but needing, no wanting, she told herself, wanting to have this page in her memory book feature his face.

"You met me…" she prompted softly.

"And it was like…a miracle to me. It…makes me believe that there must be a God. How else can I explain you in my life, what you mean to me?"

She nodded and bit her lip, looked down, held him tightly to her, as tightly as she could, feeling cold herself, needing his warmth. How could she ever explain that she was in his life due to a KGB directive? But then again, what she meant to him, what he meant to her, had nothing to do with any plan…Even though she loved plans, loved strategies - Jack had just been teasing her today when she got irritated at this impromptu midnight picnic, called her "Little Miss Five Year Plan," told her to live a little more spontaneously…Okay, she had sufficiently distracted herself, prevented herself from crying. No, no, she would not have cried. She had no reason to feel guilty. She was doing her job and making him happy. Making her happy and achieving her professional goals. Perfect. For both of them.

She looked up as he began speaking again, after taking a hard swallow. "You mean everything to me, Laura, do you know that?"

She nodded and said softly, kissing him first, "You mean….I love you so much, Jack. So much. More than anyone…I never knew I could love anyone like this…"

"That's what I mean. My imagination - had I allowed myself to hope - I….I'm not expressing this properly." He shook his head in consternation.

"You're doing…fine. Perfect, in fact. Go on. Just tell me whatever it is you want to say. I'll wait for you to find the words." She would have waited forever, in this moment. Wished, sometimes, she could have stayed forever in that moment.

"I…I was cold and alone and lost, even among so many other people, even among my friends. And then you walked into Dave's lab, into my life, into my arms and I felt warmed and loved. And not lost anymore. I felt….like I was found." He tightened his arms around her and looked into her face, seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Jack," she whispered. "That's how I felt, too, when I met you. 'Who is this man?' I asked myself when I saw you. And then I knew the answer, 'He is mine. I just needed to find him.' You are amazing, how you know my thoughts too."

He smiled, thinking of that song, "Amazing Grace," the line, 'I was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see….'

Then she continued, "I wish I could express myself as well as you do, what you mean to me…"

"All you have to do, honey, is love me. Forever."

"Forever and a day. I do love you like that. I do, I do."

"Do you? Will you….." he paused, swallowed, "Will you say that for me again? Will…you say 'I do'? Will you….marry me, Laura?"

Her eyes wide, her hands trembling, she whispered brokenly, "Yes. Yes. Of course I will!"

"Thank God," he said softly as they reached for each other. Finally pulling back, he looked into her eyes, saw only happiness and joy that he was sure his own face reflected as well. He rolled his eyes, "I totally screwed this up…" and reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the little box. She sat up straight, looking at it intently, her whole body alight with eagerness. He laughed, "Yes, the best gifts come in small packages, as you've already learned."

To his surprise, she giggled, covering her mouth in her mirth. "No, the best things come in big packages," she said, reaching out for him, kissing him soundly on the mouth. "You, you are the best gift ever." She started giggling again, unable to stop for the happiness running through her. The relief that she had finally accomplished her goals, so that her case officer would stop hassling her about getting 'the ring on your finger NOW!' Stilll laughing, she clutched at him with her hands, needing to touch him, needing the physical connection. She began caressing him everywhere she could reach...needing, no wanting, she told herself. Wanting. Wanting what was hers. Hers.

Jack looked at her in surprise. "Are you okay? Did you have too much to drink or….?"

"No! I'm just happy and being silly," she said, snuggling up to him. "Don't mind me, I feel….like I'm flying…Hold me close before I float away," she laughed.

"Me, too," he responded, kissing her head, hugging her tightly. "Now give me that busy hand," he urged. She did and he picked it up, brought it to his mouth and kissed it, kissed each finger, the palm, then turned it back over and kissed the base of her ring finger. "To seal it with my kiss before I give you this," he said softly and popped open the box.

"Jack!" she said in shock. "That's beautiful. The band of the ring…does it match my chain?"

"A little, it's so much smaller. But yes, from the same artisan." He held out the ring and she held out her hand. He slid the shining circle on her finger.

"Three diamonds, Jack? That's a little extravagant…Are you sure you can afford it?" she asked, staring at the three stones glinting up at her, one large one in the middle, one smaller one on either side for a total of three.

"I've been saving up, that's why it took me so long…." He apologized.

"Oh, stop it. Wait. What do they - these three round diamonds -- mean? I know you, they must mean something…Circles…."

"Yes. Circles, an infinite beginning and ending."

"And the three?"

"You, me, us. The biggest one in the middle is us," he said. She nodded, feeling her heart swell with love and gratitude.

"Or…Past, Present, future. The biggest one is the future." She nodded again, feeling her eyes begin to tear. 
"Or…Faith, hope, love.. The biggest one is…" His words were stopped by her mouth.

She pulled him down on top of her, wrapped herself around him as if she would never let him go. He never wanted to be freed, had thought this was the beginning of them being bound together forever as they whispered, "I love yous" over and over, until they both were flying together once again.

Afterwards, he had sat up to look at her, marvel at her beauty and the miracle he felt blessed with - her love. She lay there, nude but for her ring, glimmering in the moonlight. A picture he would never forget.

"I had this whole speech prepared, Laura," he said shyly. Her heart melted. He looked down and said deprecatingly, "Then I blew it…"

"Oh Jack, you didn't blow it! That was perfect! The most special moment, when you asked me like that….so spontaneous, so real…." She needed, no wanted that spontaneity, those real moments in the rigidity of the game plan of her life, their life. She pulled him down, kissed him deeply with such love that once again he felt his heart expand. "But, I know you probably put a lot of thought and effort into it, so…at least tell me what quotation you were going to use…"

"How did you know?" He asked, tracing the lines of her face in the moonlight.

"I know you, Jack, don't I?" she answered. "So, please tell me. Otherwise, you'll regret it, I know."

"It's really sappy…" he demurred.

"No, I bet it's really sweet. Like you can be, even though you deny it. And sweet -- that would be perfect, wouldn't it? Please, Jack, for me?" she wheedled.

He grimaced and reaching into the basket pulled out a small slip of paper. Her mouth dropped open. "Were you afraid you'd forget a quotation? You've never forgotten a quotation in your life! Oh, Jack…" she whispered, touching his face, his hair, "You were nervous? As if I would have said no to you? You, the love of my life?" He looked up and gave her a blinding smile, that thirty years later, in memory alone, was enough to stop her heart in happiness. And guilt, were she being honest. As honest as she had been in that moment in time.

He looked down at the paper, she sat up next to him. Reading over his shoulder, she saw the words, written in his distinctive-leftward slanting scrawl. "Byron," she said softly. "I didn't know you had ever read Byron."

"I…looked up the Romantics for this. I wanted to find something perfect," he admitted.

"Whatever you found, whatever you said, would have been perfect, as long as it was you saying the words, Jack. Now, please…I want to hear them in your voice… I want to remember…."

He nodded, she kissed his warm cheek as he began,  
She was a form of life and light  
That seen, became a part of sight,  
And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye,  
The morning-star of memory!  
Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;  
A spark of that immortal fire  
With angels shared, by Alla given,  
To lift from earth our low desire.

She burst into tears. He dropped the paper and she snatched it up, holding her hand to her chest in a tight fist. "Honey, what is it?" 
"It's beautiful, so beautiful. Perfect - that line about the memory…for my memory book? And how you always say I brought light and warmth to you?"

"Yes…" he said hesitantly.

She smiled up at him. "I'm happy, Jack. Women cry when they're happy. I'm going to be a complete mess on our wedding day."

"When do you want to get married?"

"Summer. June? Is that too traditional?"

"Whatever you want."

"Well, the roses will be in bloom then…"

"Oh, here. I'm such an idiot," he said, shaking his head, as he reached into the basket and pulled out a sheaf of red roses and handed them to her. She bent her head and cried silently, the tears falling on the roses like diamonds in the moonlight.

"Laura?" He asked tipping her head up and kissing her.

"I wish I could think of a good quotation for you….as a gift, like you gave me." She agonized, her mind stuck in the moment, wishing she could speak in Russian to him. Looking down at the roses in her arms, she said, "But all I can think of is Robert Burns…"

"Well, I hope it's not his poem about the louse…" he said teasingly, trying as always she knew, to lift her spirits in these 'odd' moments as he called them.

"The one about seeing ourselves as others see us? I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Jack. I wish I could give you that gift, then you would not have been so nervous. I wish you could look in the mirror and see this wonderful, sweet, giving, loving, sexy, smart, gorgeous, funny man and see how lucky I am to have you."

"I think you did just give me a gift, the best one, Laura," he said softly, leaning forward and kissing her. They both sighed as their lips slowly drew apart. Tracing a droplet of her tears as it slowly arced down a rose, he whispered, "The perfect gift. Your love. That's all I need. It's everything. Everything to me."

She dropped the roses on the blanket between them and lunged for him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pushed him down to the ground. He winced and laughed, "Laura, those roses do have thorns!"

"Ooops! Sorry," she winced herself and levered back up to kneel by him. He raised his leg and she pulled the slightly-squished flowers out from under him. "Poor baby," she crooned, while he rolled his eyes. "Let me kiss it and make it all better," she added, seeing his eyes light up with interest as her lips fastened themselves to his skin. "Oh, here's my poem, as pathetic as it is…."

Oh, my luve 's like a red, red rose, 
That 's newly sprung in June;  
Oh, my luve 's like the melodie 
That 's sweetly played in tune.

And she whispered it over and over to him as her lips traveled over his body, making love to him, as he reached for her, as he made love to her, as they sealed their love with each other, as the ocean's waves murmured in the background, as he plucked the petals off of one rose and rubbed it into her body. Each anniversary of this night he would send her red roses and dismantle one perfect bloom to rub it into her skin. The scent would always remind each of them of this night.

Afterwards, they had sat there, cuddling. Then Jack had noted, "The moon is amazingly bright tonight. Let's go up to the top of that cliff and look out. A good page for your memory book?"

"Sure," she agreed, looking around for her underwear. Seeing the grin on his face, she sighed, "You've hidden the underwear, haven't you? You think you're going to get me to walk up there stark naked, don't you?"

"Nah. I know you're too repressed for that….So, I'll let you have everything but those," he said firmly, although his mouth curved into that grin that would, someday, she knew it, someday it would be her downfall. As they got dressed and walked up to the cliff edge, she plotted and planned, wishing she could use her skills to knock him over, take him down, get her damn underwear back already! But that would blow her cover, spoil the moment….And he would win anyway, if he knew that in this moment all he would have to do was kiss her and she'd gladly fall down for him. He would catch her, after all. Always had, always would.

Sitting there on the cliff, looking out at the waves, watching the moonlight dance on the water, they drank their wine and made plans, as lovers always do, everywhere, every time. Argued about how soon to start their family, she wanting to wait five years, swearing they were too young to start soon, swearing five years was the perfect time to wait…He arguing that five years was too long, they'd get too set in their ways, that lord knows she was too inflexible as it was, ducking from her swing when he said that, agreeing to discuss it again later, as long as she wanted a family too. Beginning a little quotations game about love and marriage. She asking him to read the Byron poem to her again. Lying down together to kiss and cuddle when the wine was done. Then watching the sun start to come up behind them, the tide go out.

"I have an idea," she said. "Let's put your poem in the bottle…And I'll put in some of the petals from my roses - my poem? And throw the bottle into the ocean. Then when you're on one of your trips, if you're flying over an ocean, you can imagine that the bottle is there and remember tonight, today."

He looked at her in surprise. "Since when are you sentimental?"

"Since tonight," she answered, kissing him. And they had done as she suggested, he flinging the bottle as far and as hard as he could to avoid the rocks below. Standing there, arms around each other, they watched it for a moment or two as it bobbed in the water, then hitting an eddy, began to spin. They both laughed at the spinning. She said softly, as the sun caught the edge of the bottle in the lowness of dawn, "'The morning-star of memory.' I'll never forget this, Jack. Never. Thank you."

Kissing, then slowly breaking apart, they began to dress. She looked around. Where had he hidden her underwear, anyway? "Looking for these?" he taunted, waving her pink Wednesday panties around.

"Jack! Give those to me. Right now!" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Nope. Don't like these. They spoil the mood, remember?" And he tossed them into the wind. She watched incredulously as they flew off the cliff into the night. He began laughing at the shock in her face. Stalking over to him, she bit his shoulder, then began giggling. Turning around, standing at the edge of the cliff, they watched the underwear waft and float in the wind, the bottle drift out to sea and kissed each other as a new day began. They sighed happily and then walked away.

"So… Irina? It's Tuesday, you know. Got on your Tuesday underwear today?" he asked very softly, his mouth quirked up on one side, his eyes laughing, his face relaxed.

She grinned. Perfect. She had him, she knew. He had gotten as lost in those memories as she had. That memory was…beautiful. So special. Perhaps the most special memory of her life. It had kept her in its thrall for years. Looking at his eyes, seeing the softness, the warmth there, she knew it had snared him as well.

And that little game with 'misappropriated'? Too bad they were in this cell. He had been hers for the taking. She knew it. He knew it. But he did not seem bothered at all by the fact, seemed calm and…relaxed, as if he were enjoying being with her, enjoying the memories. It was working, her game was working. He had asked for her help. He must trust her - this game was to save his life, save Sydney's life. While he might play a game on her with his own life - he had always been fearless - he would not take a chance on Sydney's.

"Got on any underwear today, Jack?" she whispered in Russian.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he answered slyly in the same language.

"Actually, yes." They smiled at each other. He looked down and then back up again. She sighed. Whispered, "I'm assuming you're going to destroy this tape."

"Don't I always?" he whispered back. "At least Vaughn isn't out there on the monitors tonight or…."

"Where are Sydney and Vaughn?" She asked carefully, wondering if he would answer or if he'd snap back into the Jack with a mask.

"On a mission. He's acting as her handler. It should be straightforward, but the two of them together right now…" He rolled his eyes. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. She still had him.

"About like us?" she asked, trying not to grin. Game or not, this was so much fun. She had almost forgotten what it was like playing this game, the game between a man and a woman, with a partner like Jack, when you did not really care who won, as long as you ended up at the correct destination. Eventually.

"No comment," he said, with a small smile. "Actually, they're having a fight about something."

"They need to kiss and make up?"

"I do not intend to allow my mind to wander down that path, thank you!"

She smiled, remembering Sydney's story about Jack walking in on her and her high-school boyfriend. Smiled again, as he shuddered. They both looked up startled, when there was an impatient tap, tap, tap on the glass. "Kendall," they both said sourly. She bit her lip as Jack's face assumed the mask and he sauntered as slowly as possible over to the door. The man did know how to irritate, she'd give him that. Oh hell, she'd give him anything at this point, if they could just have more time together. It would just be for…fun now, now that he trusted her. She sighed. Fun, just like when they were dating.

"I hate to interrupt this…intimate tete-a-tete with your…whatever, Jack, but the contact said it was urgent. Here I am, your errand boy while you sit around. Is there anything else you want?"

Jack stepped out and closed the door, saying "I could use some coffee, thanks. Black?"

Kendall shoved a cell phone at Jack and walked away a short distance when Jack gave him 'the' look as Irina had always thought of it. Jack talked with someone. Who was it? She wondered, as he continued to talk, or rather listen, with his back to Kendall, his face to her. She stroked her chin as she watched consternation, concern and then fury cross his face. He abruptly punched a button on the phone and handed it back to Kendall. The two men spoke for a moment longer, then Kendall shook his head toward Irina and actually wagged a finger in Jack's direction. Jack looked down at the finger and back up again. Kendall walked away. Jack turned back toward the cell and rolled his eyes. 
"What is it?" she asked in concern, seeing the anxiety and anger he had been hiding from Kendall reappear. Her concern muted by yet another moment of triumph that he was not trying to hide his emotions from her.

"Your daughter…." He said sourly, in Russian as he began to pace back and forth across the small confines of the cell.

"My daughter….?" He had actually said that? In Russian? Even as she examined his tense face, she relaxed even more at that comment, at that indication that they were becoming a couple again. Perfect. Perfect for both her personal and professional goals.

"You know, she was better at the escape game when she was five than she is now…"

What had happened that he did not want Kendall to know…ah, that was why he was continuing in Russian. Good idea. "Uh-oh, what did she do? Doesn't she know how dangerous the situation is?"

"My contact - Kendall had to bring me a secure cell phone - told me that she and Vaughn apparently went out on a date. Which…given that he's…Well, never mind. The point is, they left the damn airport together."

"Are you serious?"

"And then they went to a restaurant in public."

"You must be joking! You're stuck in here, under grave suspicion, in fear for your life, her life and she's….. Is she really our daughter? Given the situation….Even if you think security is not watching you, they could be. We are in the business of clandestine operations for---"

"You don't need to tell me, Irina!"

"Well, you apparently need to tell her!"

"Have you ever tried to tell that child something she doesn't want to hear? So damn….And I thought Vaughn would be the one to keep her safe? What is wrong with him? Did Sydney suggest…no, she knows he's still….So…Weiss! This smacks of Weiss. Ever since his near death experience he's been yapping on about the darkness and living and….I will kill…" He continued pacing and swearing in every language of which he could think. When he ran out of swear words, she threw him a few in a number of dialects with which she was familiar. He absently said, "Thanks…" and continued pacing and muttering.

"Jack….Jack….JACK!"

"What?" he asked, stopping abruptly. "What do you want?"

"How many paces are in this cell?" she asked to distract him. Even though seeing Jack in a temper was always amusing, even though watching him move was always…enjoyable, he really needed to calm down or he would kill Vaughn the next time he saw him, or this Weiss person.

"Why would I count? Then I'd know." He stopped and stared at her as if she was an idiot.

"I have no clue what you mean," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and watching him.

"If you are stuck in a…small space like this and you fall prey to the temptation to count - to keep your mind busy - it's a mistake because then you'll know exactly how big it is. Whereas…."

"Whereas if you don't know exactly, you can fool yourself into thinking it's larger than it is?" She patted the table in front of his chair. Would that still work? 
He sat down opposite her and shrugged, "Exactly. And when I get done with Vaughn, instructing Mr. Protocol himself on protocol to say nothing of common sense, he'll wish he was in this cell…."

"I thought it was this Weiss person…."

"Him too. The gruesome twosome," he said, returning to English

"Isn't that what Arvin called you and Dave when you were young?" She smiled, remembering Arvin's jealousy over Jack and Dave's closeness, how Dave could con Jack into doing things that no one else but she could. But then again, Jack could con Dave too - ice skating being one of them. That poor guy had spent more time falling down than standing up, but that was how he had met his fiancé, a nurse, after all.

"Yeah," he said reminiscently. "Long time ago, wasn't it? But Vaughn…Ha! I've got payback now. He thinks I'm a cold bastard, but now…he was an idiot."

"Why would he think you're a cold bastard about Sydney? Doesn't he see---"

"He sees that, thinks that I…."

"What, Jack?" she asked gently, knowing there was something eating at him, something hurtful perhaps that he needed to tell someone. Might as well be her; after all, really, who better than her? She was his wife, Sydney's mother - was he starting to see her that way again? Good, good….

He nodded and said softly, looking away, "Well, for example, Sloane sent her out on a mission and she was trapped in this insane asylum. We were all terrified, given the situation at the time, that she would be id'd and Vaughn wanted to send in a team---"

"But you could not do that. That would blow her cover and she'd only be terminated by SD-6 before she even returned home!" She argued vehemently.

He looked at her in relief."Finally!" he exclaimed, "Someone who sees my point without me having to draw a damn map!"

"C'mon, Jack. How could he not see it? It's basic game theory---"

He spat in Russian, "Which, apparently, our grandchildren will not possess given the total lack of gamesmanship Sydney and Vaughn demonstrated tonight in this little debacle."

They rolled their eyes at each other and went back to work. As they talked aloud in English, handed each other documents, ate the food, drank the water, he felt that unique communion with her, two minds thinking alike, running at optimum speed, optimum effectiveness. The whole being greater than the sum of the parts. He felt that blend of focus, complete mental acuity and the thrill of adventure that he had always felt running game theory with her. The centering of his attention, that with her, always made him feel almost…high on adrenaline and excitement and the thrill of working with her, only with her. Felt triumph as they found a key to the problem, knew she would help, help provide the means to escaping from this hole he had found himself in. Felt the heat, the thrumming in his veins that was laced, oddly, now with relaxation… a sense of coming home. It was a curious combination. He felt almost like he had left the ground, they were working together like they had in the past, they were so good together, he felt like he had when they had first met and were discovering each other, when he felt like he could have flown over to her apartment to meet her every day, just flown with happiness and anticipation….

Then…time stopped, the air thickened, his heart slowed. He went from the high to…. 
Dismay and disgust at his own foolishness, as she said, albeit reluctantly, "When I was your wife…." The look on her face was enough to warn him. Before she even resumed speaking he could feel it, feel the fall escalate, the loss begin, the feeling of being lost return. He had to maintain control, at all costs, he had to maintain control…..He felt his face freeze, the happy smile he had been about to give her solidify into the mask, as she continued, "I met with my case officer in his hotel room."

He had to force his body to remain still, to not jerk forward in agony as the sharp knives of betrayal returned in full killing force to his body. He was ready to swear she had just gutted him with a dagger. Once again, he thought, unable to speak even if he had wanted to, Shakespeare came through in the clutch. Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 1.

"Et tu, Brute?"

TBC at Chapter 11 part 4