The Perfect Weapon Ending 1 Chapter 1003: Part 4 section 2 of 3
Chapter 1003 Part 4 section 2 of 3
“Jack,” Irina asked, banging lightly on the bars to draw his attention back to her. “Where were you? What were you thinking about?”
“Sydney. I-“
“Why don’t you come in this cell with me? Why are you standing out there?”
“I forgot the key,” he said simply, thinking if that wasn’t Freudian in some way, shape or form, then...he’d have to hand in his card entitling him to annoy psychobabble practitioners for life. And that would be a shame, he enjoyed it so.
“You...forgot? Well, go get it!”
“I beg your pardon?” Jack asked frostily. “I hardly believe you are in a position to make demands.”
“You know what I meant-“ she began, then stopped, hearing that bell at the end of the corridor. “Who’s that?”
“Sydney. I sent her to get the key.”
“Sydney?”
“Your daughter? Remember her?”
“Of course....Must you be so irritating?”
He ignored her and turned to his left. Holding out his hand, he took a step forward, urging Sydney to come closer now. He had sent her to get the key to give her a little more time. Time he had known she had needed when he had seen her white face downstairs. She held out the key, he took it and transferred it to his other hand while pulling her close. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m right here.” She nodded and then looked over into the cell.
“Irina,” she said softly.
“Sydney,” Irina smiled. Good, their little spy family was together again. “Come in, come in,” she urged.
Both Jack and Sydney stared at her, then looked at each other. Jack reached his hand out and inserted the key into the lock. Sydney reached a hand out slowly and opened the door. Jack stepped through first and then waited. When Sydney came in, he reached around her and slammed the door shut.
“Did you have to slam it?” Irina carped at him, wincing as the vibrations of steel hitting steel seemed to pummel her eardrums.
“Yes. I did,” Jack said softly. “I did have to slam it.”
The three of them stood there, looking at each other, Jack decided, like some particularly-twisted triangle. He had wasted too much time already on this woman, this relationship. He had his closure. He could not wait for this to be over. To just get on with his life, for Sydney to get on with hers.
Sydney’s eyes went back and forth between her parents. Her mother looked confused, albeit eager as she looked at her father; her eyes almost...sparkled. Oh my god, she thought, she does see this as some game between them, if a game to which she did not know the rules yet. Her father looked calm, resigned, vaguely irritated.
Sydney had commented to Vaughn on their way back down the elevator when Jack had sent them for the key he had forgotten, which she did not believe for a moment, knew he was giving her time or wanted a moment with Irina first, had commented that there was something different about her father.
“With Jack?” Vaughn had asked. “Yes. It’s the lack of something. Before every time we saw them together, even just walking down the hall with Jack to that cell, between them there was so much---”
“Emotion,” Sydney said flatly. “Even if well hidden, there was emotion.”
“Yes. Anger. Hatred. Love. Fear. A connection. Worry?” Worry he knew, largely about the cost to Sydney.
“And now... I’m just feeling nothing from him. Nothing but...well, he looks worried when he’s looking at me, but that’s it.”
Sydney looked at her father, saw him looking at her and both nodded.
Jack had watched Sydney carefully, saw her lips tremble for a moment, then firm. Sydney was probably going to be unable to say goodbye today; if nothing else, she no doubt had numerous questions to which she needed the answers. And it would be far better to have the answers than to regret never asking the questions. He hoped that Sydney would....No.
He was just going to trust that she could handle this, that she would see the truth, that, he took a deep breath, that she would not leave him. Knew that Judy was right, that he had to operate from faith and not fear. Knew too that in some ways this was the ultimate test of that belief. He sighed again, sometimes it was much easier to have just ignored his emotions. Well, not easier in the long run, but... But then, looking at Irina, knowing how she pushed into a safe little compartment her guilt, her fear, her knowledge of the truth of what she had wrought, her regrets for what she had abandoned, he knew that this was a moment of truth for all of them. That paradoxically, that her box needed to be opened while they were all locked within.
“Why did you have to slam the door?” Irina asked absently, as she stared at both their faces, so much alike in this moment, so....closed. Although Sydney looked...was it anxious? And Jack looked... she still could not read him. There was no anger, no triumph, no... nothing, no emotion in his face as he looked at her. Nothing. She sighed. He was much better at using that mask than Sydney would ever be. “Why is that?” Irina asked, looking at him intently. Registering, with a ping as faint as the elevator once again opening down the hall, that something was wrong....she frowned... something was....she rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling a little shiver....something was missing. But this must be part of the game, he always excelled at---
“I promised you that you would get exactly what you deserved for your part in capturing Sloane. I always keep my promises,” Jack said softly. Wondered just what it would take for her to realize the truth, for he could see in her eyes, her demeanor that she still thought this was, inexplicably, some game. No, not inexplicably. The last time she had been in a cell facing either him or Sydney she had put herself there as a game she was directing. She probably had decided that this was his mirror ploy and he’d...probably get her out to...what could it be? Work with him? He sighed. This was not going to be pretty.
“Very funny,” Irina said. “Still a smartass.” Then turning to Sydney, she asked, “Is he always such a smartass or am I just privileged?”
“He has his moments,” Sydney said absently, staring at... Who was this person? Was she seeing the remnants of shock or were Vaughn and her father right, was Irina this deeply in denial? Sydney turned a shocked face to her father, who nodded. Had this flaw, this ability to over-compartmentalize, consumed her, locked her within a prison of her own choices, her own limited view of reality? Could she even find the way back? Would she want to, if it meant that she had to face the reality, the horrible reality?
Irina spoke up, “What... Why did you have to slam the door? I don’t understand.” She would appreciate it if they would pay some attention to her, she thought, feeling excluded, starting to feel a little lost.
“I know you don’t,” Jack said softly. “Why are you fixating on the door?” he asked carefully, trying to push her to acknowledge her instincts, that the slamming of the door to her cell was more than a mere display of strength on his part. Although, he had enjoyed using all his strength to slam the door, it had been quite satisfying, a little...coda to the game. But the other fact, that it should serve to remind her that she was locked in appeared to be lost on her. Well, he sighed, then she probably would not understand that he had used the slam as a signal. “Do you know---”
“No, I still don’t understand.”
He sighed. “That’s why I am here.”
“But Sydney, why are you here?” Irina asked with a smile, turning to look at her, ignoring the warning signals her gut was sending her with every moment spent in Jack’s presence. He was here....but not here. That made no sense, but.... She shook her head, deciding to ignore the little shiver that went up her spine every time she looked into his eyes that showed her nothing, nothing at all. Where was the...anger, the annoyance, the worry...if nothing else, where was the triumph he should feel at besting her in the game? Where were the emotions behind the mask? She turned again to face her daughter, “Sydney?” she asked.
When Sydney said nothing, Jack spoke up. “Irina, we are here to explain your circumstances.”
Sydney nodded and said after a moment, “First, you need to know that Dad made deals so that you would not get the death penalty.”
Irina nodded, shrugged dismissively. As if Jack would have let that happen anyway. This game of his...it was a good one, she had to admit. It almost felt real.
Sydney looked at her father, who shook his head. Sydney added slowly, “And you will have certain privileges. Library privileges, for example, so that you can have books.”
“Newspapers?” she asked with a smile. This was all so ridiculous.
“No, no newspapers, no news magazines, that’s SOP for prisoners convicted of espionage,” Sydney said, shooting a glance at her father.
“And...solitary? Will I be in solitary? Like you were? For the sake of symmetry?” Irina asked directly of Jack.
“No,” he said shortly. “That, that would be both cruel and pointless. However, there is a condition you must meet to keep out of solitary, you must work with--.”
“Who would that be?” She smiled, knowing that the game was about to be revealed. “Let me guess, I need to work with---”
“A therapist. I’d like you to at least try meeting with a therapist,” Jack said slowly, knowing she had thought he was going to tell her that she had to work with him, or Sydney or both.
Irina paused for a moment. Then laughed. “Since when does the US government provide and pay for therapists for international terrorists?”
“They don’t. Dad does,” Sydney told her.
“Jack...Jack is paying for it. Okay, I’ll bite,” she said, with a sly glance at Jack who merely stared at her stonily. “So, a therapist? Fine. What would be the point of that?” Irina asked, crossing her arms.
Sydney answered, “If you meet with your therapist and work on your...issues, I will try and visit you from time to time?” she said questioningly, looking up at her father. He nodded, acknowledging, she knew, the doubeplay of her own that she had just exercised. Encouraging Irina to see a therapist while finding a way to obtain answers to her questions.
“Your choice, sweetheart,” Jack said softly, squeezing her elbow.
“I see. I behave properly and I receive a reward. Positive reinforcement for me, Jack?” Irina asked sarcastically.
Well, it always worked on the rats, Jack thought with a shrug. He would refrain from voicing a comparison between Irina Derevko and a rat. Surely, someone would give him points for that.
“Well, regardless of how you visit me, I am happy, so happy to see you,” Irina said, smiling at Sydney, expecting to see that slow smile of Sydney’s that reminded her so much of Jack’s.
“Are you?” Sydney asked, tilting her head. She took a deep breath and then another.
What was this about, Irina wondered, seeing the concern on Jack’s face as he looked at their daughter. What was wrong? This couldn’t be.... No, she shook her head. She was allowing the anxiety caused by the quiet in this area, the silence from him the last few days, to create needless worry.
Jack bent close to Sydney, he touched her arm and whispered, “It’s okay. I am here. We are surrounded by our friends. You are safe. In all ways.” Sydney nodded, keeping one eye on Irina, watching the concern pass through her eyes, then watched her once again discard her instincts which were no doubt telling her to be careful.
Sydney whispered, without thinking, “I know. You’ll catch me,” but watching Irina, missed the startled look on Jack’s face. Diving in, she said swiftly after taking a deep breath, “You say you are happy to see me...But in what way?”
“What do you mean?” Irina asked, feeling like she had entered a maze all unaware.
“Are you happy as one might be to see an old acquaintance or a friend with whom one has inexplicably lost contact, someone you see now, but won’t be too upset if you don’t see again for a while?”
“What are you saying? You are my daughter, of course I want to see you.” How much more clear could she make it, Irina thought in frustration.
“You are glad to see me. But yet....you were willing to not see me for twenty years. And to leave me again, in Panama, in Mexico City, at the ice rink, each time, you left me.”
“But Sydney...I had no choice. I had to-“
“You had to play the game, right? That was a choice. You made that choice to leave me, to stop being a mother...” Her brow creased as her father gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Choice...her father...what had happened that had made him withdraw from her? Had it been a choice as she had always assumed, or...had something else... And he had apologized...But.. Not now. Later. Sydney turned to her father, said softly, “I...don’t know what I want to do.”
Jack asked, “Are you feeling confusion?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She thought and then turned back to Irina. “I’m not sure who you are. Who you are to me.”
Irina raised an eyebrow. “I am your mother. I know, that like before, I may not have earned very much, but surely you know that I love you, have always loved you. From the moment the doctor placed you in my arms, to this very moment, I love you.”
“Then why do you keep leaving us?” Sydney blurted out. “Did you ever think about what we would feel when you left us the first time. And again?”
“I told you on the ice rink that leaving was painful---” Irina protested. Why didn’t she understand?
“I know that. I remember your words. Your pain. Which seemed real enough. But you never asked me what I felt. To say nothing of Dad. And what about ours, our pain? Then. Now. The pain you chose to inflict upon us?”
“Pain passes. And you have your father, he has you. You’re both strong, resilient,” Irina nodded. Looking at Jack, she said, “And you know the way the game, this life works. And I would have returned eventually -”
“In another twenty years?” Sydney asked, feeling anger surge through her veins. Was she done with the sadness, she wondered, as she began to feel impatience.
“No, not so long. It would not have taken me long to finish Rambaldi. You have to understand, Sydney, I had this great opportunity, no one could pass up on it...” Irina explained. Surely they both understood. She understood what Jack had done, this game of his he had in play. She looked at him, feeling this odd...opacity that began in his eyes and seemed to encompass him. She could not read him, she felt in confusion, could not even feel him, feel the ‘us’ right now. Where was it? Where was the connection? It had to be there, even though it felt like it was missing.....
“Really? No one? Not even Dad?”
“I...” Irina waved a dismissive hand in Jack’s direction. “His circumstances were different-“
“No. His choices were different.” Not always perfect, to be sure and she still did not understand them, but....
“But...when I solve Rambaldi, then I will have all the answers,” Irina said urgently, willing Sydney to understand. Why was this so hard? What was missing here? “I would have the ultimate answers to the ultimate game---”
“The ultimate game?” Jack and Sydney asked together.
“Yes. Knowledge. Power. The power to control whatever I wanted. Including the ability to change the past, I think. Just imagine....if I could change the past and...use Rambaldi to go back in time and stay with you...." Irina said cajolingly. "Just imagine.”
“Just imagine....? You imagine that we - Dad and I - would choose to go back in time to when? Did you ever imagine this....That maybe Dad might choose to go back in time to a point where he had never met you, where he might have met someone else in college or the Agency and-“ Sydney heard her voice escalate, but felt powerless to control it, felt such a potent mix of fear and anger....
“Like that woman who put her hand at your arm, that brunette woman, at Dave’s party that time?” Irina spat out, never noticing the amazed look on Sydney's face as she turned to look at her father in astonishment. “Have you told her about that woman? Or---”
“What? Who? Stop it. Now, “Jack said firmly. “Your possessiveness was not only ridiculous, it was ill-founded, then and even less appropriate now, given --”
“Did you ever think,” Sydney interrupted, “If you truly loved him....That Dad might have wanted, benefitted from a different woman, a different life, a different set of choices, that he might have had more kids, that maybe his choice if he could go back in time would be to change his life completely and---” she swallowed hard.
“No,” Jack interjected quickly, seeing the panic on his daughter’s face and putting a gentle hand on both of her shoulders, turned her toward him and spoke directly to her. “No, Sydney, I would not do that. And I’ll tell you the truth. When she brought up this idiotic notion of time travel before, I thought about it for a moment, but then rejected it in my head, even if it were possible, because then I would not have you. I know this truth I am about to say and you should know this too. Let me speak plainly so that you will never have any confusion about it.” He squeezed her shoulders, looked deeply into her eyes. “Whatever else in life you forget, remember this. You, you are more precious to me than myself, than anything. More important than any pain this woman caused. Worth any pain. Worth any cost. I would not change you for the world or any power within or without it.”
Irina stared at them, wondering how Jack could turn from the...nothingness she felt emanating from him to this warm, caring man in a flash, a beat of the heart, as he spoke so gently with Sydney. The love on his face as Sydney burrowed into him for a moment, where was that for her?
Then sighing deeply, Sydney stood back. “Let’s forget this idiotic notion of time travel, Irina. We live in the real world, not some science fiction fantasy you use to console or amuse yourself as the grand spinner of life’s tales,” Sydney spat out, seeing the truth, standing on her own now. “So let’s return to the notion that if you weren’t here, in this cell, paying for your crimes, at some point....And so....at some point, who knows when -- even you don’t know when -- you would have returned and my children would be what? Five, Ten, Twenty? And Dad... How much would you have missed and for what?” With a shock of recognition, Sydney realized that it really did not matter whether or not Irina was in this prison or free. Because she was trapped, regardless, by her own choices, by her own...lack of imagination. Or was it courage? Or...more simply, horribly...trapped by a failure of insufficient love? She opened her mouth, “Irina-“
“Irina? I am your mother, call me-“ she began, feeling a touch of fear, which lent anger to her tone.
“No. I have learned...” Sydney began. Stopped, then started again. “I have learned that our choices make us what we are. Not our circumstances. Our choices. Irina.”
“But....” Irina began, then realized she did not know what to say.
“And you never even apologized. Never....tried to make amends, never even considered allowing yourself to truly feel that guilt that is inside you. Never tried to make a new, fresh, honest start....” Turning a startled face to her father, Sydney's words trailed off. She was talking, she realized, about her father. Her father who had always seemed to know everything that was going on in her life even when he had not seemed to be a part of it, who she thought now, had been on the sidelines...Like now. Just waiting...he was good at waiting, she thought. Just waiting to catch her. So that she could make a fresh start, as he had begun when he had apologized the first time for his failures as a father. Maybe it was time to let go, just let go of all that. Start fresh. She sighed and felt relief flood her. Then turning to Irina, she said, “Forget an apology. You never even truly considered telling us the truth, did you? Even though that might have made everything....”
Turning a panicked face toward Jack, Irina hoped he would help her, then saw that he was ignoring her, watching Sydney.
“But...” Sydney began, “As I said, if you agree to meet with the therapist-“
“How are you paying for the therapist?” Irina turned to Jack, wanting to engage him, wanting to disengage from the anger in Sydney. "That kind of work must not come inexpensively and---"
“I sold,” he said blandly, that tone she had learned was a warning. Tensing, she heard him say, “I sold a bunch of jewelry I had lying around.”
It was amazing what prices some of those pieces had brought. Particularly that pagan necklace, the first piece he had ever designed himself, something he realized suddenly he had never told her when her initial reaction had been so negative. And then after...he had been too embarrassed. What a waste of time that embarrassment had been, that fear. Life was too short. Or rather, their time together had been too short. He would have told her that, would have told her about his fear of being a lonely geek if they had had more time...Or, he wondered as a thought hit him like a slap, would he? Had he not told Laura because some part of him, that atavistic sense of danger that often made him the first agent to feel an ambush, had sensed some deeply-buried truth, that he was in danger and needed to protect himself? Or...was he giving his instincts too much credit? “Not all the jewelry, just some,” he added for clarification. “The rest are for Sydney or her children.”
This was not good, she decided, willing herself not to feel the coldness of shock or the heat of pain. He had sold her jewelry? How could he? Then a thought occurred. “And my estate, my home, Querencia?”
“Oh, I’m not selling that. I have plans for that,” he noted. Then frowned when he saw her relax again. This was like stepping through a minefield, the defenses she had erected to prevent herself from facing reality.
She had sighed with relief at his words, barely noticing when Sydney told her that she was leaving now, told her again that she would visit if she made a good faith effort to work with a therapist, that there were questions to which she wanted answers... just knowing that once Sydney left, Jack would explain to her what this game was, how Querencia fit into it, everything...., including how she would get out of here.
Stepping out of the cell with Sydney, Jack motioned with his hand toward the elevator. Curious, Irina stepped out behind them, to see Vaughn loping toward them. In an instant, Vaughn had his service revolver extended and pointing at her.
Irina laughed as she stood outside the cell door. “Please, Agent Vaughn, we all know you won’t shoot at me.” Jack was very amusing. This was almost real. But still, she scoffed, “Especially with Sydney standing right here. She would never forgive you.”
“Ah, but he won’t have to worry about that eventuality,” Amina’s voice came from behind her. Irina whipped around, astonished that they had come into the hallway, apparently standing outside her cell and she had never noticed. That elevator ping she had heard... Jack, damn him, he could always distract her, she thought as she saw Weiss and Amina standing behind her, both with their service revolvers pointing straight at her. She sighed appreciatively, no one was better than Jack at misdirection.
Sydney stood still, remembering her father warning her this morning of the plan, that he intended to use Weiss and Nia to try and impress the truth upon Irina. And after what she had already seen in the cell, she knew that he was correct. He did have to exploit every opportunity to drive the truth home. Even this. She sighed, touching her father’s bare arm for a moment, thinking that she could not even recall the last time she had even seen his bare arm, that he was right. As usual. When he had told her that she would feel safe with her friends surrounding her. And even though they had guns in their hands, she did feel safe with her friends here.
“No, Vaughn won’t shoot, he won’t have to,” Weiss agreed. “We’ll do it. After all, what are friends for?”
“Don’t dangle your prepositions, Weiss,” came Jack’s dry voice which seemed loud in the silent corridor. Irina rolled her eyes. Once the son of an English teacher, always---
“True, Old Man,” Nia said coming closer, her gun still extended. “Proper English and good manners are all that saves us from descending into true savagery. Now, Ms. Derevko, please put your hands up. Or quite regrettably - for you, that is - I’ll be forced to shoot you between the eyes. As you may know, blood splatters and I have on my traveling clothes and I am without time to change.”
“Do it,” Jack commanded Irina with a jerk of his head. “Now.”
Staring at the guns aimed at her, Irina asked, “Jack...what is this?” She slowly raised her hands, tried to joke, “Who’s minding the store if everyone is here?”
“Dixon. Someone had to stay at home and handle the intel coming in from your locations and former employees,” Vaughn responded.
“Get back in the cell, if you don’t mind,” Jack said, nodding at Irina.
Slowly, staring at him, she walked back in and sat down heavily in a chair within. Watched Jack chat for a moment with that maid Nia, who was no maid, with Weiss and saw the two of them walk away, Weiss commenting about needing to hurry to get Nia to the airport. Then watched Jack turn to Sydney and Vaughn, give Sydney a hug and heard them walk down the hallway. When she heard the ping of the elevator he turned around and came back into the cell, shoving the door closed more gently this time as he faced her.
This was it, he thought, acknowledged. The last time he would ever see her. He opened his mouth, then shut it. What the hell. Let her go, she always liked to make the first move.
He watched her stand up, pull her black sleeveless shirt down and tuck it into her black pants. Then she turned and begin fidgeting with the bed linens, straightening them, tucking the edge of the sheet down over the blanket top, squaring the pillow perfectly on the edge of the bed. What was she doing, getting ready to lay a mint on the pillow like this was the Hotel----
“Now that we are alone again,” Irina began as she turned. She had to find the key to reach him, she knew. This should do it, this old game, circling back to their first night together.... Walking toward him, she said softly, extending her hand, “Jack. I love you. Please. Help me find a way out of this prison, won’t you?”
For the love of god, he thought in resignation. She would play this game to the bitter end by trying to use that little game of three sentences from their beginning. A circle, she thought, no doubt.
“I will help you,” he said, shaking his head, “By providing you with an opportunity to see a therapist. How you use that opportunity is, of course, your choice. As you told Sydney, you have free will. I would suggest you exercise it and avail yourself of this opportunity.”
“And if I do, you will help me out of this prison?”
He shook his head, looked down for a moment. Then said, speaking honestly from his own experiences, “The prison from which you truly need to escape is the prison we create in our own minds. When we can’t see options, when fear or habit or misplaced priorities prevents us from seeing possibilities.”
“You sound like a therapist now,” she said, trying for a smile.
“I should. I’ve spent enough time with one,” he said noncommittally, his face neutral.
She opened her mouth, then stopped, stared at him, ignoring his comment as she registered that she still felt nothing...no emotion coming from him...nothing. That he had not taken her hand, that it was there between them, in mid air. She let her arm fall slowly as she scrambled to understand, to find, to feel.....That tether between them, where was it?
He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him. He allowed it, deciding resignedly that she needed to play every hand or she would always be able to think, “If only I had played the game, this way...” Which would be a waste of her time, the rest of her life. He would try to give her the gift, such as it was, of seeing the truth. He sighed. Sometimes you just had to let the hand play out, even when you knew you held the trump card of truth.
“I don’t understand what that was about, in the hallway,” Irina began, shifting her feet, trying to avoid whatever was coming at her, something was coming, she could feel, sense the rumble underneath, but.... “Why you had them, Nia and Weiss, here as .... guards.”
“Irina. You are a prisoner in federal prison here on more than eighty counts, some of them murder in the first degree,” Jack said slowly, knowing that if she was using elliptical thought patterns she must be lost. Or given how straight a path her brain usually took, for good or ill, that she must be choosing to be lost to avoid the destination. Well, it was apparently his job to point the way. “You are considered a highly-dangerous prisoner. Particularly to those whom you know.”
“Jack, you’re being ridiculous. I am Sydney’s mother. Your wife.” She stopped when he gave a short note of sarcastic laughter. “Be serious. I would not hurt either of you.” She rubbed her hands up and down on her thighs.
“Be serious? Okay, define ‘hurt’. What would you consider hurting me, hurting Sydney? I am ever so curious to read the definition of hurt in the Derevko dictionary. Enlighten me.” He rolled his eyes. “After all, you’ve used a tazer on Sydney, shot her, elbowed her in the head, pistol-whipped me, to say nothing of the big---”
“Not another of your lists,” she groaned
He shut up. After all, they’d already had this conversation, had every conversation. But one. This one coming up. He looked at her, just waited. “Okay, you’re right. What do you want to say to me now? Your turn.”
“Jack, did you forget?” she said quickly, involuntarily lifting her hands and looking at them. “I said the three things. I said please, told you I loved you, asked for what I wanted. That’s the game. And the truth. As long as I-“
“Irina...No. Please. Listen to me. Look at me.” She raised her eyes to his. Seeing the look in his eyes, the implacability in his face, finally hearing it in the tone of his voice, she dropped her hands. “You are a prisoner. You are in federal prison, where you will stay for a very long time.”
“Let me guess. I’ll be eligible for parole in twenty years? Symmetry again?”
“Stop it. Look around you.”
She looked only at him. “What? I am really a prisoner? This isn’t a....game? How, why....” Irina asked, staring at him. Trying to find ‘her’ Jack in the stranger confronting her. “What... What is next? The future? I don’t understand....Will I stand trial?” The part of her brain that was still functioning asked the question, the logical questions, while the part of her brain that saw the truth in his face and contained the words of her heart had stopped dead in its tracks. “The teams in my estates, my properties....Evidence...That is what the teams will be looking for? Evidence to use in a trial against me?”
“I don’t need more evidence. Did you forget? Madagascar? Remember you admitted to all the charges against you,” he reminded her.
“And when I...left in Panama,” she said, closing her eyes, feeling that trap, that circle close around her, “I negated the clemency agreement. You set me up. You agreed to that job in Panama to set me up, knowing what I was doing, knowing that aside from everything else, I would negate the agreement and make myself vulnerable again.” Damn it, damn it, she thought. I made the choice that- Then shut off the thought to accuse him, “You set me up.”
“You set yourself up. If you had not made the choice-“
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She exclaimed, covering her ears. Thinking, but trying not to think, not to see the trap that had closed around her. Spinning, her mind spinning back to Panama, wondering where it had all went wrong, what critical moment she might have missed, how she could have avoided....But the only way to have evaded this trap would have been to...NO. The only way to avoid that trap...that trap of the necklace, the photographs, the deeds, the transmitters, the code, the emails....the only way to avoid that trap would have been to...she swallowed hard, tell him the truth and ask for forgiveness. But no, that had not been a choice, a real choice. Why didn’t he....What could she....
“Fine. You know the words, you know what I was about to say. You have to live with it.”
“So do you,” she accused. How could he live with setting her up this way?
“Yes. I did. Past tense. I had to live with seeing you make poor choices, choices that hurt others and yourself. And Sydney does too. In case you’ve forgotten about her. How easy it is to forget about her, isn’t it? You can justify what you did to me forever, and you probably will, as being just a game between two gamesmasters, that I should have known and seen, that I merely got beaten at the game. But...Sydney? What was she? In the game? Let me guess! A pawn. The innocent in all of this. That is what-“
“If you feel that way, then why allow her to see me?” Irina asked heatedly. “If you had played your hand properly before, now, you could have done it. She was always the ultimate daddy’s girl, you could have convinced her, manipulated her---”“
“Because, Irina....that would be wrong, “Jack said calmly.”Wrong on so many levels. First of all, I like to think I don’t make the same mistake twice. Second of all, as you so helpfully pointed out to her, we all have free will. I have to trust her. Now, I have faith in her choices. Her judgment. She needs to make her choices and live with them and as long as those choices and their ramifications affect only her, that-“
“What do you think I could possibly do to her locked up in here? I can’t tazer her or---”
“What did you do to her, locked up at the Op Center? Just broke her heart, that’s all. Again. And she’s had enough... grief in her young life. And in any case, I merely gave you the rope you needed to hang yourself, you set yourself up when you chose to betray us again in Panama---”
“Jack, wait,” she blurted out, feeling a sense of urgency, needing to know the answer to this question finally. “Why did you and Sydney seem to have some...problem?”
“Ah...that tension between us that you sensed and exploited?” Jack asked with a shrug, taking that leap of faith that even if Sydney saw her again, that this time, she would not be able to come between them.
“Shut up and tell me why,” she urged, sensing on some level she did not want to acknowledge that if she did not ask now, know now, when.... But then she backtracked, sensing on some other level that this might be one of those questions to which she did not want to know the answer. “Stop. You don’t need to tell me why.”
Why? He sighed. Debated. But then, shrugging his shoulders, watching her eyes retreat, decided that she needed to understand the ramifications of her actions. This was his last opportunity because this would be their last conversation. And it didn’t really matter what she thought of him. The only person whose opinion really mattered was Sydney and one of these days he’d tell her. And she would either accept it, understand it, or...not. But...it was true, part of his past, and it was time to put it completely in the past to the point where he could use it to try and make her understand that choices had consequences.
“Why did Sydney and I have tension between us? It’s not a simple answer. Because in the wake of learning the truth about you, in the wake of my imprisonment....because I had a breakdown after I was released from prison,” he said calmly. “And I withdrew from her out of fear; unfortunately did not get the help I needed thanks to Arvin. The situation spiraled out of control and I had no one to help me, only Arvin there to make it all worse to help himself. And naturally she felt rejected and bl---”
“Wait!” Irina interrupted him. “Did she blame you? As a child or an adult?”
“For withdrawing? Of course. I made-“
“This breakdown - that was an accident on your part, you didn’t, would never, mean to shut her out if you were in your right... But wait.” She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, which suddenly seemed to lack focus as she truly heard his words. “You, you had a breakdown? How is that possible?” Jack was such a rock, so strong. She had never expected that, never thought, never imagined....
“Irina, I am not made of stone. I have my vulnerabilities, my weaknesses, just like anyone. As you know. As you know, you exploited them, didn’t you?”
She ignored that comment. After all, there was nothing she could have done to break Jack. He was too strong. It must be something else. Yes. “What did you mean, when you said Arvin prevented you from getting help? Why would he do that? Just to keep you in his game? How could he? Even as much as I know about that man, to do that---I should have killed him when I had the chance. I still... He was your friend!”
“Yes. And you were my wife. Neither...relationship prevented my being used as a useful pawn, a tool, in your games, your all-important---”
“Do NOT equate me with Arvin Sloane!” That...toad, that worm, that...Napoleon without a horse to lift him over the heads of those around him, that betrayer of his friend’s trust!
“Why not? What’s the difference? Besides the fact that I never slept with him?” He asked, then shuddered, on two different levels. Sleeping with Sloane -- well, he had committed some heinous acts in his time, but even he had his limits. And on another, less amusing level, he refrained from telling her that he had felt like a whore at times that night in Panama, that on the plane ride home he had decided that he would not sleep with any woman until he was in love again, that he deserved that much in this life.
“What’s the difference? I love you,” she protested.
“And what does that mean? Does it matter, in the end, does it matter?” Jack asked, knowing he had asked it before but....
“Does love matter? Of course it matters. I love-“ Irina began, then stopped, knowing against her will that this was more than one of their usual arguments, either as Laura or Irina. She saw his face change, saw regret fill his eyes. And...compassion? Something....dreadful was in his face, in the very absence of significant emotion, in the lack of the connection between them that she finally felt with full force. How could that be? What was happening?
TBC at Chapter 1003 Part 4 section 3 of 3