The Perfect Weapon Ending 1 Chapter 1001: Part 2
Ending 1 Chapter 1001 Part 2
Looking down at her hands, letting the memories fly through her head, anything was better than contemplating what she would do very shortly after all, she thought suddenly of Dave, felt his loss keenly. Dave, how did you die? she wondered. Couldn’t you keep yourself safe for Jack, he needed you, loved you so.... Dave had been so much fun, he could get Jack going like no one, including herself.
She remembered a photograph she had taken of the two friends that day she had taken those photographs of Jack, the two of them laughing in front of a kitchen window. She didn’t even remember if she had ever shown Jack the image. She might have thought it was a ‘nothing’ picture - just a typical moment of the two friends.
Dave, he had been her friend too. Only a true friend would have taken her to task like that, told her truths she did not want to face that day....But no, don’t think of that Dave memory, think of...this one, the day after the night of the jewelry.... That made more sense, that was logical. Complete that memory. Yes, Irina, that made sense, that thought was a straight path....
“Jack, what are you doing?” Laura had asked as she came out on the front porch. “Dave will be here any minute and I thought we were going out to dinner before everyone else came over for cards. You’re getting all grubby...”
“Oh, like Dave can’t wait. We can always order in Chinese. I had to do this. Now. Before everyone comes over and wants to hang out on this damn glider.”
“Damn glider? Since when is it a damn glider?”
“Since every time I hear the damn thing squeak, I get a hard on,” he grumbled, as he crawled partly underneath it to oil the moving parts.
She had burst out laughing. “Men are so....”
“Simple, I know. The perfect examples---”
“Of Pavlovian stimulus--response theory,” a deep voice cam from behind her, making her jump. Dave. She shot a suspicious look from Jack to Dave, who both gave her far-too-innocent looks. She narrowed her eyes and looked at them.
They looked at each other, then at her and said indignantly, “What?!” at the same time.
“You two....” Oh, forget it, she decided. Men were as evolved as your average puppy. “I’ll go get some drinks and you two can stay out here and gossip.”
“Just make a loud noise to warn us before you come back out, “ Dave called as she began to walk away. Then grunted, as passing him, she punched him in the shoulder. “Geez, she’s strong,” he grumbled.
She smiled when Jack sighed and said happily, “I know. Isn’t it great?”
Coming back out, she sat down cautiously between the two of them, remembering the last time she had done this. They looked straight ahead, at the street, calmly sipping their drinks. Too calmly, she realized. Her eyes narrowed. “What were you two talking about while I was gone?”
“Nothing!” they both exclaimed.
“Really? I think it’s time that you two let me in your little-“
“Jack! How are you enjoying that porch?” Mr. Greenlaw called out from his yard. Jack heaved a sigh of relief and got up to speak with their neighbor.
Dave said quickly, “Laura. Thank you...” nodding in Jack’s direction. “I’ve never seen him so relaxed, happy as he has been lately. You’ve made such a difference in his life.”
“Thank you, Dave. I...was mad at you, you know?” He nodded and watched her carefully. “Even though I denied it then. But you were right. And....I thank you.” He patted her hand lightly and changed the subject.
She smiled up at Jack as he sat back down. Then wiggled around on the cushions when his fingers tickled her spine. She leaned back into his hand, his warmth, with a sigh of contentment as he began rubbing the skin of her back in smaller and smaller circles. She sighed, shifted, then shifted again as she realized those circles were reminding her of other circles he made with his fingers on other occasions. Like this glider last night. That little....oooh!
She jumped off the glider. “Stop it, right now, Jack!”
“What? All I’m doing is rubbing your back, while we glide, squeak, squeak, squeak, back and forth, back and forth, back and---”
She stomped on his foot. “Oooh! You will pay later!”
His eyes brightened. “Oh. I live in hope, honey. But where? Outside or in? Should I set up the citronella torches for you or--”
“I swear, Jack Bristow....” She hit at him. He grabbed her hand, laughing even as he kissed the palm and her face softened immediately.
“Do you never stop playing games, you two?” Dave asked quietly, watching, as he so often did.
“No!” they had both exclaimed, laughing, smiling at each other, leaning toward each other for a kiss.
“The games between you never end.” Dave said, laughing as well.
“Nah. Why stop when you’re ahead?” Jack said with a smirk in his voice. “Because I’m winning this one, aren’t I? My point, this time?” He asked as he licked her palm.
She snatched her hand back and flounced off into the house. He followed her, as she expected, as she waited right inside for him to chase her as he always did. And he had. He had grabbed her, picked her up, carried her back outside and sat down with her on his lap, his arms around her so, he said, she could not escape again. Had whispered in her ear, “You do love the chase game, don’t you?” She had nodded and sighed happily as she snuggled into his warmth and he tightened his arms around her and she had covered his hand with her own. Looking down, she had seen the late afternoon sun glinting off of their wedding rings.
‘Mine’, she had thought, ‘my moment, my memories.’ He looked down and wiggled their entwined fingers and whispered in her ear, “The games between us? Forever and a day, right?”
“You’re right. Forever and a day.”
And he had been right. He was so often right, after all, she thought as she got up and got dressed. Staring at herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair, she wondered why she had been so afraid to look at her reflection. It was just her, after all, in the mirror. Irina. Who else would it be? And in fact, she looked...good, replete, satisfied. Like she had been...well-loved this night. She had, she thought, been well-loved indeed, seeing the slight redness on a spot on her jaw from his beard, the rosy puffiness of her lips from the countless kisses he had lavished on her.
She watched her hand come up to trace her own mouth and then she dropped it and traced the drawing of the heart on the document next to her with a steady hand.
She was so far ahead on solving Rambaldi. Jack had been right about that too, why quit when you were ahead? She only needed Sloane’s research and she could have it all.
She rolled the document and tucked it inside her clothing, thinking she would have to avoid Jack touching her until she left, he would feel the telltale bulge and the gig, she would be up, to quote from Casablanca. And that would not do. No, she needed to get in that car and get in the plane and head out.
When she was finished, well, then she could come back, apologize if she had to, even avoid displaying her thrill at beating him again, show him her love again and he would forgive her again. It was simple. Pavlovian, in fact, when you loved someone as they did each other. You loved, you forgave. Or this time, this time, he would know what his job was. To chase her, bring her back home. The games between them never ended. Dave was right.
Too bad, she would realize too late, far far too late, she had not remembered another comment of Dave’s, from that memory she should have remembered, “He apologized? Geez, a master of misdirection...”
“I’m sorry,” he had said, standing there, still nude, staring at her, she would remember later. His words, his body, her foolish, foolish, self-delusion prevented her from seeing who was standing in front of her. Then she had just seen what he wanted her to see, what she had wanted to see.
Her Jack. Apologizing. In the nude. What more could she want?
Or so she had thought at the moment.
Time was up, he had thought resignedly, opening the bathroom door. As he stood before her, he looked at her, at her dry eyes, at the nearly-palpable excitement nearly undulating from her as she no doubt thought about her upcoming extraction and open resumption of the Rambaldi snipe hunt. To say nothing of the fact that she was beating him at the game once again.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, standing there, seeing her in that twisted white sheet even though she was fully dressed. Very sorry, he thought, more sorry than I can ever say, he thought, closing his eyes, seeing her still wrapped up in that damn death shroud of white, how she had twisted it like a sari. That memory could have gone either way, but seeing her calmness, he knew that she had conveniently forgotten the lessons of that night about gifts and the openness necessary for true connection, about relinquishing control to find oneself. But he’d ask, what the hell. “What were you thinking about out here while I--?”
“While you were sulking in the bathroom?” she asked, laughing in relief when he gave a self-deprecatory smile. Ah, that was her Jack. A quick temper, a quick flare up and then it was all over. Thankfully. She had been wise to just leave him alone in there to work it out for himself. It was fine now, she knew seeing his smile still on his face. Good. She didn’t want to leave him when he was angry. “What was I thinking about?” she teased, unconsciously playing with that necklace with one hand, while the other kept plucking at the skin of her waist, feeling something that was not there. “Guess?”
“The night of the jewelry,” they said together. She smiled.
“Actually,” she began, patting the bed next to her. He shook his head and tapped his watch as he walked over to his case and pulled out his clothes.
“I was thinking about the day after, when Dave came over and I pretended to get irritated and went inside---”
“Ah... we were on the porch, hanging out, and he and I were teasing you?”
“Yes, you do remember! And you chased after me and carried me back out onto the glider with you?” He closed his eyes, well, at least he knew what she thought would happen next, after she escaped. She reached out a hand and touched his bare back as he pulled on his pants. He forced himself not to flinch, not to draw away.
“Jack....” she began and then rubbed his back, wanting to touch him one last time, feel his skin under her fingers.
“I’m sorry, Irina,” Jack said, standing up straight and zipping up his pants, dislodging her hand. Sorry, it’s come down to this, to the last moments, when all I can do is acknowledge one last tiny little bit of hope that you might see your errors before it’s too late. If only, if only he were not going to be proven correct just this once.
“Sorry?” she asked as she tugged her jacket down.
“Sorry I let my anger over losing you before color this time we had together. That I let my worry over Sydney in this life and my hopes that this op---”
“Sydney, of course, that explains it - your anger. But, Jack. It’s okay. I love you. Of course, I forgive you. Of course. And this op, it will be fine.”
“Of course it will. The planning has been meticulous on both our parts,” he said absently and went back into the bathroom, returning carrying his pack.
She cocked her head and looked at it curiously. She commented, “That pack of yours. I have two questions. One, why do you have a screwdriver in there?”
He rolled his eyes. “Forgotten what the trunk of my car looks like, Irina?”
“Ah, the ever-popular game of Clue. And where is that camera? Or were you lying to me, just to irritate?”
Why lie, he thought? He just didn’t have to tell the whole truth. “No, here’s a camera. See?” he shrugged and pulled a tiny camera out of his pants pocket and tossed it to her. Then ran his belt through the loops. She tossed it onto the middle of the bed. Too bad, they were out of time now, she thought sadly. He looked at it and asked, “No pictures? Color me astonished.” Oh brother, he’d been spending too much time with Weiss. Or was it Susan? Those two really needed to meet.
“Do we have time? Could I take one or two of you?”
He shrugged, “Sure, if you want. Actually...” He said, picking it up from the bed and showing it to her. “This is one of Marshall’s wonders. It’s very tiny, but has all the gizmos, including a timer.”
“So we could take a picture of the two of us?” Oh, please, please, she thought frantically, looking at her watch.
“If you...want,” he said with a grin. He picked up his shirt.
“No!” she called out. “Leave your shirt off. Please?”
“You are something else. We don’t have time to replicate your portfolio, you know...” he warned, once again tapping his watch.
“Well, we would have if you’d given it to me earlier.”
“Well, I’m giving it to you now. So where do you want me to sit? Us?”
“Here, just sit here, we don’t have a lot of time...” She urged, pushing him to sit down on the rumpled bed with her hand on his shoulder. “Lean back on your elbows for me.” She nodded eagerly when he did what she wanted and quickly snapped a few frames. With an impish grin she asked him to unzip his pants a little, with a roll of his eyes he did so and she took a few more. Then he vaulted up and told her to sit down, let him take a few of her. She plopped herself down on that same rumpled bed, watched him step back and take another step back and called out, “Watch out or you’ll hit the table!” She laughed and he quickly snapped a few images. “Oh, that’s a great shot,” she derided, “Me with my mouth open.”
“No, you looking happy,” he said and handed it back to her. Seeing the time on her watch, she quickly set the timer, put it on the table. Then realizing the table was too high if they sat on the floor and too low if they sat on the bed, she decided to plunk it on the chair and they could sit on the floor. Told Jack to sit on the floor before the bed, laughed as he shoved the loose bedclothes around. “Who’s the neat freak now?” she asked as she fiddled with the camera height. Looking over her shoulder, she frowned, “Oh, that looks worse than before, Jack. Honestly, can’t you even make a bed?”
“You were always the best at making your bed, honey,” he said with a comical leer, making her laugh again, laugh in relief that his anger was truly over. Wait, the camera was still too low, she thought and in desperation pulled that thick brown portfolio of his to the chair and plunked the camera down on that. Darting back toward him, hearing the tick, tick, tick of the timer, she plopped herself down next to him. When he went to put his arm around her she flinched internally and thought quickly, trying to find a way to deflect him so that he would not feel the bulge of the document against her back. Grabbing his jaw as she had done, she thought, so successfully in that Indian train station, she pulled him toward her and kissed his mouth just as the camera flashed. Then he turned his upper body toward her and she flinched, seeing a red mark on the spot where the neck and shoulder met. She touched it lightly and kissed his nose as the camera flashed again. Sighing, she stood up. “Two, I set it for two. So, I guess we’re done for now.”
“Guess so,” he said calmly and jumped to his feet. He handed her the camera and she tucked it surreptitiously in her jacket pocket. She watched him shove that brown portfolio in his pack and then look up as a brisk knock at the door sounded.
“Breakfast, I called and yelled at them before,” she shrugged at his querying look.
He went over to the door and took the tray from the bellboy. Carrying it over to the table, he put it down and shrugged into his shirt while she poured coffee for the two of them. With coffee in one hand, he walked over to the window and look out. Again. What was it with that window? She had looked out herself and seen nothing of interest, she thought as she nervously played with the necklace, watching him. He shrugged, said, “Overcast. Here we are in the tropics and it’s cloudy and cool. Good thing you brought that jacket, I guess.”
“I guess. Are you hungry? I ordered food,” she said, not wanting to have a conversation about the idiocy of having a jacket in Panama City. She tapped one finger on the plate’s silver cover, while her other hand rested on the middle diamond of her necklace, debating about wearing it or trying for a better...He raised an eyebrow at her actions as he lifted the cover on a plate. He looked down and his hand stilled for a moment before he plunked the cover down again.
“What?” they asked simultaneously.
“What is it?” he asked first, nodding at her hand playing with the necklace.
She wanted a do over with that necklace. She wanted him to present it to her again, this time with sweetness to bury the memory of her distress in the bathroom. Preferably when he gave her the chain. The chain. Where was it? Was it in some safety deposit box somewhere? She would have it, she knew. He would give it to her. And they would see each other again. He would chase after her. She knew it. He had to. He knew his role now, after all. And he would give her that chain, sooner or later. She knew that too.
She unclasped the necklace, held it in her hand. “I...if Sloane sees this necklace, he might remember it, might remember that you gave it to me, wonder how I got it...”
“I doubt he’d remember one necklace among so many he saw you wearing while you were my wife. You had quite a collection, after all,” he said dismissively, as he sipped his coffee and eyed the covered plate as if it held a nest of vipers. “And for all he knew, you took it with you when you left. Or had a replica made to remind you of the good old days.”
“Maybe you should hold onto it, just in case, give it back to me later.” She shoved it into his hand.
“No,” he said firmly. Startling her with his swift movements, he put a hand in the waistband of her pants and tugged her toward him, just as he had so many times in the past with her chain. Automatically lifting her face, she then bit her lip as he somehow ignored the cue to kiss her. She relaxed when he gave her a quick, teasing smile and merely tucked the necklace into the pocket of her pants. Pulling back, picking up his coffee again, he said, “Take it with you as a good luck charm or... Remember how you said that you wanted the chain to take with you as a reminder of me, to help you feel safe? Well, I don’t have the chain in my hands, but I do have this. Do this, take it, for me? I’d feel...better,” he said softly, giving her a worried look.
She sighed. Put a hand on his as he set down the cup. There was no way out of it now, he had neatly trapped her, unknowingly, of course, with her own words. “Of course. If it means that much to you.” She lifted the cover off of the plate. Nodded at the contents. “I thought you’d like this. I saw you rubbing your stomach last night. Is that ulcer of yours full blown now?”
“Actually, it doesn’t hurt at all this morning,” he shrugged, before draining his coffee in one long swallow and plunking the cup down on the table.
“But still, you must be hungry. I know I am,” she said, picking it up and taking a large bite. “Go on, Jack. Have some, it’s your favorite...” She teased. She held out a piece of toast, slightly burned around the edges, to him. “Your favorite food is still toast, I’m sure. Always so easy to please. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. But we’re out of time,” he said, shaking his head and walking over to the door.
As he put his hand on the knob, she called out, held out the toast in one hand. “Are you sure? About the toast and the time?” He gave her a look. She rolled her eyes, said laughingly, “Yes, you’re all about the timing, aren’t you? But, really you should eat something ---”
“Irina, I promise you. When we walk back through this door after we capture Sloane, I’ll eat an entire loaf of toast if it will make you happy, alright?”
She nodded, looked down as she tossed the uneaten toast on the plate to avoid looking in his eyes. Took one last swallow of coffee and walked over to him as he opened the door, ushered her through it.
“I’m sorry you ordered that...when we didn’t have time,” he said softly as he walked out behind her. He switched the lights off and closed the door firmly behind him without a backward look. She waited for him, noticed the clock in the hallway where she had tossed it last night. Then looked up into his face as he said, “Thanks for the thoughtfulness. But...I think it’s too late, now.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. It’s too late. Let’s go.” He tapped his watch again. “It’s time to play the game.”
TBC at Chapter 1002 Part 1