The Perfect Weapon Ending 2 Part 1 Section 5
What if...
Dave had asked. "Are you there? Will you? Do your best? Try for everything?"
Nodding, she said, "I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Dave, she thought, touching his picture one last time before closing the portfolio. I owe you. I guess it's time to finally keep that promise, with no exceptions, no hidden agendas. Time to find... what was it Dave had said? Jack. The potential.
What if I ... have love? What if I have faith in that love that once existed between them? What if I have hope that he might find the.. What was it Dave had said? Grace, the grace to forgive me? That would be... the greatest gift, she would never ask for another. Not even, she thought, touching her bare waist, her chain. She wouldn't need that anymore. Want it as a symbol, but if she had the real connection, the chain was just a symbol. She could have it, have everything. She hoped. She had to have the courage. She must walk in there, tell the truth, apologize and... Do what? Ask for help so that I can find the better path? We can find the best way? Together?
But strive for the greater gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way.
She looked down at her feet and with a deep breath, took a step. Then another. As she started toward the bathroom, she bit her lip and looked upward as she said loudly enough that surely he would hear it in heaven, "Dave, be right one last time. Let this truth be real. That love never fails. Please."
"Dave?' Jack whispered, as he eavesdropped on the other side of the door. 'Dave?' He nodded, remembering. 'Love never fails.' Oh my god, he thought, his lips moving soundlessly. He had been right, so long ago. Love never ends. "Thank God," Jack whispered, looking upward. He paused, his lips moving silently as he put a hand over his heart, trying to calm its mad beating. "Open the door," he said softly. Waiting. Waiting for her to find her courage, he knew she could.
"And Dave?" She paused with her hand on the door knob. "Forgive me when I kill that sob for whatever game it was he's been playing on me. A gun would be too quick. Maybe... a knife. And, if all else fails, I do have all those shards of glass out there. And then there's...."
He grinned and tapped his hand on his chest. Then as his fingers slid across his skin, he realized that he was covered with a sheen of perspiration, as he had sweated it out, that journey of hers. Well, he decided as she stood there and began detailing the ways she might torture him -- trying to find her courage in her own unique way, he might as well take a shower before she came in here and killed him. He probably had the time given the number of methods of which she undoubtedly knew and her sheer stubbornness. Maybe she needed a little pull...
"I can always use my bare hands...." She mused on the other side of the door. "Wrap them around..."
"I live in hope, honey, I live in hope," he called out as he turned on the water and stepped into the shower.
She put her hand on the doorknob and paused. "I live in hope," he had said. Twice. She could hear his voice, so many years before, not quite so deep as it was today, saying that to her, or rather Laura. Saying that, giving her the cue that it was her turn to take over. The cue she had not understood until the night of the jewelry. Or rather had not fully understood until now. That it was his choice to trust her, his faith in them, that had led him to hope that she could give him everything. Then. Now, it was the truth that it was faith that brought her here, but hope that would lead her forward. She pushed open the door and stood there, taking a deep breath. Those ten paces to the shower were the longest walk she had ever taken in her life.
She looked ahead. He stood there. Behind that translucent shower curtain. She closed her eyes. That had to stop. No more seeing each other dimly. They had to see each other face to face. She looked at him, searching, needing to see...
But....this, this... she knew suddenly, was a failure of.. Damn him! He was right. It was a failure of courage. Because... what if it was her Jack standing there waiting? And for lack of courage, she didn't ask the question she needed to ask. What if, for the sake of her own pride, she denied them... what... she needed. There she had acknowledged it. That little voice whispered... She dropped her hands from her ears... You need him. He needs you. And how many chances did one have in life? What if this was her second chance? What if this was it? What if.... There was no other chance? What if... he wasn't going to wait any longer? What if... What if this was it? What if this were the day of forever and a day?
What if....
What if... she had used up the day and still had forever? If she played her cards right.
What if....
What if... my arms became your safe haven? Your querencia?
As she took the first step, she told herself that somewhere in here was the man she had loved, the man she could love. She paused, looked down at her feet, listening for her little voice over the muted roar of the shower. Then nodded. Yes. 'Yes,' she thought, one of the most powerful words in any language. Yes. He was here, waiting, one last time. Knew both truths, that he was here and that this was her last chance, with every instinct she possessed. Every instinct to which she was finally listening. He was waiting, just waiting. Perhaps he was waiting not only for the truth. But no, he was waiting for the truth. The most important truth. That she loved him with everything, everything that was in her, the real her. And that the love was just the beginning.
In the beginning, so long ago, she had played a game on him. A game that was based on illusion, an illusion that had become real. And now, these last few months, they had each been playing a game on each other. On themselves. This morning, this last night, he had added a new element to the game, that screw and skedaddle, which still really irritated her. Really irritated her. She knew she needed to focus on that to propel herself across the tile floor before all the hot water in that shower ran out or Jack's patience did. Which would run out first? What if he ran out of patience with her?
Oh, move it, she told herself. Find a way to get yourself over there.
His voice drifted over the sound of the shower. "I'm waiting. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little water?" He deepened his voice. "The great and powerful Irina Derevko---"
She almost burst out laughing at the allusion to her favorite movie, happy that he still remembered. Happy that he was still trying to reach her, help her. "I suppose you're the man behind the curtain?"
"Would you like to be the Wicked Witch? But no, perhaps you'd prefer the Tin Man? Ah, perhaps you are the Tin Man. Perhaps that's why you're hesitating. You're afraid you might rust. You know the word rust, it rhymes with trust. Trust is good. But rusting? That would be a shame to become afraid of water. A great shame because you seemed to enjoy that little... game we played in the hot tub this morning."
What if she killed him, she seethed, for playing some game on her? "I do have a heart!" she exclaimed, grinding her teeth, even as she knew he was manipulating her.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" he asked, using that voice he knew drove her up the wall. 1, 2, 3....
Using that to propel her forward across what felt like hot coals under her feet, she nearly ran toward the shower tub. She pushed the shower curtain aside with a slap of her hand. "Jonathan Donahue Bristow, you, you are a dead man. Dead."
"For the love of God, Irina! You almost gave me a heart attack!" He fought to keep from laughing aloud as he saw her eyes. He closed his momentarily. She... his... whatever her name was, would be...
"Why?"
"I thought, when you raised your hand to push aside the curtain, that I had stumbled into a Psycho reenactment! Geez. You did like that movie too, as I recall, but I'd almost rather watch Love Story again--"
"No, you wouldn't. And I'm feeling a little psychotic about now, Jack! You son of a b****. Playing that game on me!"
"What game is that?" he asked casually, raising both eyebrows in mock surprise as he tried to ascertain how he should act. Then he bit his lip. No, Judy would tell him to listen to that little voice, would tell him he had to understand how he felt before he should act. He was... hopeful and anxious he decided. Hopeful that if she had seen the truth...
"You know what game it is! You and Dave called it the screw and skedaddle---"
"Ah. The jig, she is up?" Jack asked.
"Oh. Casablanca. I ---" Irina rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare try and distract me!"
"Are you sure? You always liked games..." He said, automatically falling back into one of their teasing games, the one where he would irritate her and.... It was so easy. Too easy, he knew. Knew they were both avoiding jumping over the cliff before them. Working up their courage to take that leap. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest, as he forced himself to say lightly, teasingly, just to irritate, "There are so many games I could play with you, after all. Hmm, if you would get into the shower with me, we could play--" he reached the shampoo bottle out toward her.
She slapped it out of his hand and it banged down with a smack, pouring shampoo onto the floor of the tub. "You better pick that up," she said, crossing her arms.
"You pick it up."
"You pick it up."
"You slapped it down."
"You made me."
"I can't make you do anything, Irina," he said softly.
"Liar. You lying bastard," she hissed at him.
He began to smile slowly. "You cowardly b****."
She smiled slowly. "Tell me how you really feel, Jack. Please don't hold anything back in this fight for the sake of my feelings."
"Tell me," whoever you are standing here in front of me, giving me hope, "About what are we fighting?"
"Can you just talk like a normal person? Can't you just say 'what are we fighting about?' Can't you just let a preposition dangle?"
"That's not my self-actualization goal for today." He paused, knowing she needed to relax, needed a moment to gather her courage. "And honey, I don't let anything just...dangle." She burst into laughter, then he watched in shock as it turned to silent tears. "What are you crying about? What are we fighting about?" he asked. "Really fighting about? Tell me. The time is growing short---"
"What we're fighting about..." She took a deep breath. "What we're fighting about is...you want an apology from me and I'm delaying giving you one. One you...deserve."
He stood there waiting. She took a breath.
She closed her eyes. Knew suddenly, that he had been, at least in part, wrong. When he said that it had been a failure of courage, or of love, or of imagination or some combination. Because... although he had been the one with the acknowledged trust issues, she was the one who had failed to trust in their love. To trust in their love to be enough. When... it was everything. Everything. Because without it, what did she have? The nothingness of emptiness. She had nothing to lose by telling him the truth, by asking what if....?
Drew in a sobbing breath. Then let it out. Let out a sob, then another. "Jack...."
"Yes?" He asked and took a small step toward her, but still stayed in that damn tub, she thought angrily.
She inched forward herself and then stopped. "I need to tell you something."
"I'm listening." Then he stopped, before adding. "I'm always willing to listen to the truth."
"Ia tebia---" She began to blurt out, then cut herself off. Not yet. Nyet. There were other words to say first. Other truths to tell. "Jack... this morning was... hard," Irina admitted. "You were harsh. You've never been that way with me before."
Jack nodded. "True. But all's fair in love and war, honey."
"That's what this game is? Truth and consequences was just a battle in... love? Or the war between us? Or is it something else?"
"Until... now, I hope," Jack admitted. "Until now it was the most deadly game of all. Both. Love and war."
"What are the rules?" she asked. Then shook her head, "You already told me. New rules. No limits. I should have listened."
"Yes, listening does help." Had she listened to him? To her own little voice? To Dave? He could help her no more. Not right now. It was all in her hands. He waited. Hoped. Told himself to have faith. Told himself it was just one last time, even though he knew this journey would require many moments of faith. Hoped he had it within him to find that faith over and over. But no, now he just needed to concentrate on this one moment that would determine the rest of their lives. He put a hand on the wall of the tub enclosure and unconsciously tapped his fingers.
She stood there, clasped her hands together. He was... waiting, but not giving her much. No, that was wrong. She needed to listen to his words, not the caution in his tone, the watchfulness in his demeanor, all perfectly logical reactions to what had passed between them. Listen to his words, that had spoken of hope. Hold onto the hope, she reminded herself as she watched his hand.
"Dave used to do that," Irina blurted out. "But with a pencil or pen or that ugly---"
"Ring." Jack nodded, then smoothed his hand to lie flat on the wall. "I remember. I think I've been doing this these last few minutes because I've... been feeling like---"
"Feeling like he's with us?" Irina asked. "I do too. I was reading....Love never fails, he wanted. And you preferred, love never ends."
"And you had no preference."
Take a risk, she told herself. Her mouth opened and words, truth came out, as she said, "I want them both. For all of us. That is... the goal, the prize of the game we've been playing, isn't it?"
"What do you think?"
She sighed in exasperation. He sounded like a damn therapist, like Dave. She closed her eyes. I know, I know, Dave. Tell him. "I...need to make changes. I want to make changes. I want to help you. I want you to help me. I want...I hope you want... us. I hope being us would make you happy. I want you to be happy. I want the prize to be...everything."
"How...fortuitous. We want the same results."
She sighed in relief. Then asked hurriedly, "When does the game end?"
"You tell me,"Jack offered, waving a hand in her direction, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. She looked so... small standing there. He had never seen her, thought of her that way. He had always, always thought of her as strong and tall and confident. But now... she seemed so anxious. But she was strong, she could do this. Had to do this.
"So magnanimous." She rolled her eyes. Knowing she had never spoken truer words, that he was being generous.
"I'm generous." He gave a small, half smile.
"In victory."
"Have I won?"
"Yes." Irina nodded. "I hope... we both will win. But you definitely won. If...you wanted me to see the truth."
"I did. Which is...."
"I...made mistakes. Very...bad mistakes." She cursed her word choices. Bad mistakes? Was she four years old? Or, she knew, six. "I...caused you pain and Sydney and myself and all for.. The sake of pride and stubbornness and....yes, lack of courage, imagination. But not lack of love. Just a lack of understanding of what love is. You win. I saw the truth in the mirror. And it was... sharp, slivered glass, no bed of roses." They looked at each other, both knowing that there was much more to say, but both knowing that before they could move on, they needed to move through, cut through the initial thicket of thorns preventing them from reaching the roses hidden within.
"But what have I won?"
"A new game. No more love and war. Not between us anyway. No. Back to what the game should have been. What it will be. I hope. The...ultimate game. The game between a man and a woman."
"And the rules?" He let out a small breath, waiting for her answer.
"Truth. Hard work. Courage. No masks. Putting the other person first. I'm sure there are more, but right now..."
"Good enough." He dropped his hand from the wall and held it in the warm stream of water, staring at it as he asked, "And the prize to this game?"
She swallowed, staring at his hand, wishing.... "Forever. Because...I've already used up the 'a day' of forever and a day, haven't I?"
He looked at her for a long moment. "I'm...afraid so."
"Jack," she said abruptly. "I want you to know that I remember that you don't give second chances, that... I'm skating on thin ice."
"As I recall," Jack said, allowing himself a small smile. "You excelled at that."
She held out her hand. His eyebrow raised, he cautiously extended a hand. When he felt the trembling and coldness in her fingers, he reached his other hand up and held hers in both of his, warming it. Felt a slow warmth begin to invade his bones, chase away the chill, as hope began to send its warming tendrils into his skin.
She whispered, "This is what I should have said on the ice that night."
He squeezed her hand when she began to tremble. "Shh, it's okay. You can do it."
"Yes, I can do this." She swallowed. "If I could go back in time. I'd go back to the ice. And this is what I would say." She stopped. Then noted, "I would like to speak in Russian. The truth in my native tongue, in the language I think in. Except for swearing." She smiled.
"English is best for swearing, I agree." He smiled back. "Go ahead."
"Jack Bristow, my name is not Laura. It is Irina, Irina Derevko. I am not an English graduate student. English is not even my first language. I am not American. I am Soviet. I am a KGB agent and I was sent here to seduce you and steal your secrets. But I fell in love with you and you with me, I think. And loving someone means giving them everything they deserve. And you deserve the truth. I...love you and I want to stay with you. Forever. Forever and a day. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. I want to wear your ring, have your children, grow old with you, share with you. I want to skate on ice with you forever."
She finished and took a deep breath. He began to pull her forward and she held up her free hand. "Nyet. Wait. I didn't say that then. So... I need to say something, the first of many somethings now."
He nodded.
"Jack. I regret what I've done. What I've left undone, perhaps, most of all. But...I don't regret meeting you. Never. I love you. And I don't regret coming back into your life, into Sydney's life even though..." She took another breath. "I came back into your lives, yours and Sydney's, to steal from you again, to use you again. Not only to steal secrets, but to steal happiness one last time, never counting the cost to you and Sydney. And-" she gasped, struggling for a breath, struggling not to cry, failing to realize that she was crying until he reached a hand out and gently wiped her cheeks. "And I...tomorrow....today I was planning on leaving you, using this op not to capture Sloane and free Sydney, but to continue my quest for Rambaldi, to set up an extraction and leave you again."
"I know," he said simply.
She stared at him and felt the pieces begin to fall into place. Let her hand fall, watched his fall to his sides. She groaned. Of course he had known. People have patterns. But that was too easy, did not give credit where credit was due. "Brilliant analysis, Jack."
"Coming from you, I'm flattered. But...What's next?"
What if… She made that leap of faith Jack had made so many years before? About which she had never truly believed Dave. Until now. Until she could feel what he must have felt. That yawning chasm at her feet as she prepared to make a leap. To trust that he would catch her.
What if…. She had some faith? Trusted in Jack. She remembered once, sitting in some airport, somewhere, sometime, picking up a book someone had left behind out of sheer boredom. One of those pop psychology books Dave had hated with a passion. This one was by Dr. Joyce Brothers. It had been, she thought, interesting, no matter what Dave thought. One line had leapt out at her, stayed with her. "The best proof of love is trust."
She put one foot on the ledge of the tub, wanting so much, so very much to take that small little leap over that small wall, to be in the warm curtain of water with him. But that step seemed insurmountable as she stood there. Breathing. Watching him wait.
He stood there, watching her. Knowing that she had just walked through fire out there in that bedroom. Had walked through hell in her own mind. And now, taking that final step, she took a deep breath and held out her hand.
Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear
Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
The lonely light of morning
The wound that would not healIt's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I have held so dear.
I've fallen...
I have sunk so low...
Heaven bent to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turned their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
You'll slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed
Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...
Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight...
The long awaited answer... to the hardest questions she had ever asked.
Could he forgive her? How? How could you forgive this betrayal, so long ago that still lived, whose repercussions had never ended, just kept circling back? How could you break free of that cycle? Why would he want to? Was he being honest? Or was this some game of revenge and reprisal on his part? How would she know? It wasn't safe to... But, perhaps it was her turn to take that leap of faith. To trust. Please, she thought to herself. What should I do? Then she realized that she needed to speak those words aloud.
"Please...help me. What should I do?"
"Take my hand," Jack said, softly, waiting.
She looked up. There was the answer. Seemingly the answer for which she'd been waiting forever. If only she'd known which question to ask. So simple. To ask for help. To ask, what should I do? And there was the answer, in his outstretched hand.
"Jack," she said softly, watching his hand rise. "I know we have a hard road ahead of us, if....if you can, if we can..." She broke off. Smiled involuntarily as she watched him wiggle his fingers at her impatiently. The very annoyance in the gesture warmed her, gave her courage to raise her own hand to meet his. They both started and then their hands closed convulsively around each other, in two strong grips. Staring at their joined hands, she asked, "Do you think we can find a way, how do we..."
"I think the answer to that question starts with you, so go on," he urged softly. "Tell me your answer."
"Ia tebia liubliu." I love you
He waited, his hand warm in hers. He nodded, then squeezed her hand gently. Then said softly, "I know that."
"But... it's not enough is it?"
"You tell me." He looked at her carefully and said softly, "I don't mean…. I don't want to be… cruel or difficult or obtuse. But the truth is… love? You didn't think it was worth...everything before."
"I was wrong. Dreadfully, horribly, stupidly, tragically wrong." She swallowed, then smiled. "Why use one word when you can use three, right?"
"You used four," Jack noted, absently, she could tell. He took a step toward her. "But you... were wrong?"
"Da. Ia tebia liubliu, Jonathan Donahue Bristow. Jack." She paused. He waited. She nodded. "Ja vinovata." I'm sorry. She swallowed hard. Had she ever, in her entire life, apologized in Russian or any language and meant it before? Truly meant it because she truly repented of her actions? She repeated it again, louder. "Ja vinovata." Squeezed his hand, knew he felt the slight trembling in her fingertips when he brought his other hand up and began rubbing her hand between both of his.
"Honey..."
"Nyet." She held up her free hand and took a deep breath and resumed. "Ia tebia liubliu. Ja vinovata. Izvini menia." I'm sorry. Forgive me. Were there any more difficult words to say, in any language? Yes, yes, there was, she knew as she continued, building the bricks to a bridge, she hoped, closing her eyes and praying that Dave was right, that love was with her in this moment. Please. There she could say it. Would say it. Please. "Pozhaluista. Ja vinovata. Izvinia, pozhaluista." Please. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please.
He looked at her. Surprised she could tell by the utter stillness of his body, by the cessation of the warming stroking of his hand on hers. His eyes were... she felt warmth begin to creep...like the fog on little cat feet through her body, making her shiver and shake. In his eyes she saw the long-awaited answer
Jack felt a calmness come over him as he looked into her eyes and saw her. The real person, needing, imperfect, wanting, fearful, strong, questioning, answering. Finally, finally, she was answering that question he had asked so long ago in the back garden of their house, as they had lain naked before each other, illumined only by the glow of torches.
"What if... What if my arms became your querencia?"
Safe haven. She needed it and so did he.
"Come to me." He said it softly, the words come slowly from his lips, guided by... no, really, it was his internal voice speaking. And instinct that made his muscles move. He held out his arms.
She gasped but stayed frozen.
He nodded, began speaking again.
"Come to me. I've been waiting for you. Forever."
With a glad cry she stepped upon the rim of the tub and took a flying step, falling into his arms. He laughed softly as he caught her, staggering slightly as his feet sought purchase on the slippery surface below.
"Mia querencia," she whispered, as her lips brushed across the skin over his heart.
Feeling her shiver, he slowly freed one arm and raising his hand pulled the translucent shower curtain closed. Holding her even closer, he turned with her in his arms so that the cleansing heat of the warm water could cascade down over them both.
Standing there, they both sighed, the sound nearly lost in the tumult of the water surrounding them, the pounding of their own hearts, their own desires, fears and needs as they both realized that a new journey was about to begin.
"You know...." Jack whispered, pulling back a little to cup her face in his hands. "The last time... it started with a kiss you gave me."
"You know," she smiled softly as she put a hand on his chest. "I was thinking about something you said earlier tonight, today, whenever."
"I said.. a lot of things."
"True. True...things." Looking into his eyes, seeing the warmth there, if a cautious warmth, she suddenly realized how difficult it must have been, he who had always been so careful to hide any pain from her even as Laura, to show her his pain and distress this morning. To her who did not deserve his trust. But perhaps all those words had been building up like the waters in the lock chambers of the Panama canal not so very far away from this room, just waiting for the gates to open. She lightly stroked the skin of his chest under her fingers, then looking up said softly, "I don't know that I've ever heard you utter so many words at once, as I heard this morning."
"And which ones are you thinking about now?" He brushed his hand over her hair, shaking his head at the tangled mess beneath his fingers, then slid his hand forward to cup her cheek.
"I was thinking about what you said about do overs and rewinds and... I don't want to make the same mistakes twice. I don't want a rewind. I want a do over. And so, I want to do things differently." She lifted up on her tiptoes then rocked back again, giving him a small smile, urging him silently to just kiss her already. When he looked at her blankly, she stared, then realized from the glint at the back of his eyes that he was teasing. She felt herself relax just a little. "Don't be so dense! You know... differently from last time when I was the one to make the first move...."
"And that means what? Oh." He grinned. "I see. I kiss you first this time. I say," he changed to a soft, breathy falsetto to say, "'Oh!'"
"Are you mocking me?" She asked sticking her hands on her hips.
"No," he said with a solemn face that was in itself a warning. "If I were mocking you, I'd say..." and he once again switched his voice. "Oh, honey, I wasn't expecting for my knees to tremble or my...insides to melt or to want to jump you right here on the street." When she merely rolled her eyes at him, he added with a broad smile to show that he was joking, "Or to wet my panties with excitement. Gee, they never warned me about that in KGB school---"
"You are SO irritating!" She began to smack him. Then stopped, looking up at him in concern.
"What?" he asked curiously and reaching out, took the hand that was still outstretched and held it. "Why did you stop? I deserved it. I was trying to make you---"
"I...slapped at you." She wasn't sure, this path was so unclear to her. She knew the destination she wanted, but the way there... How much from the past was good? How much was truly her? How much truly him? Or, she looked down at their joined hands, how much was something entirely new that became truly them?
"So? You always did---"
"You didn't like it when I did that in India," she reminded him, curling her hand up in his palm. She looked down again at their hands, thankful as always for the size of his. "And Dave didn't like it."
"In India I... didn't want you to think that we could just fall back into old patterns. And I was confused, I admit it. But Dave? I know he practically lived at our house, but you weren't married to Dave. I'm not Dave. I liked it." There, that had been easy to admit, as long as she didn't ask--- Oh, damn it.
"Why?" Her eyes narrowed. She wished he would just tell her things, but that was part of their pattern too, wasn't it? She had never pushed too hard because she had been... afraid of opening herself up too, afraid of the natural reciprocity that his openness would demand. Now, though... "Why? Tell me."
"You know why."
She blurted out, "Stop playing that little game where you get a doubleplay by avoiding telling me something and irritating me at the same time." Then she nodded in surprise. There, that was a truth. She knew that. She felt her shoulders relax the tiniest bit.
He looked surprised, then nodded. She had, quite without thinking, told a truth. She did... know him. "You know that? Well, that's a shame. That was a damn fine way of avoidance." She pinched his arm and Jack sighed. "Why did I like it? Well, I liked anything to do with your hands..." He lifted her hand and opening it with his fingers, lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm slowly. She closed her eyes, once again feeling like her hands finally fit, that she fit somewhere. Then she laughed when he took a little nip with his teeth and opened her eyes to his small smile. Raising her eyes to his, she stilled as she saw the honesty there. He swallowed and told her, "I liked the slapping because...I enjoyed irritating you. Which you knew. Which we all knew..." He lifted his hand toward her nipple and she slapped it away. They both smiled. "And because I enjoyed the fact that you only really did that with me, that I was the only one who could really get you so agitated that words would fail you and you'd resort to physicality. Because I liked seeing you lose a little control."
"I never had any control around you. I was... volatile, which..." She shook her head. "Which was not me. Not the me I thought I was. But put me in your presence for five minutes and...." She leaned forward and took a sharp little bite from his chest.
"You became a different me?" Jack nodded, then looked down at the mark on his chest. He looked up quickly when she began speaking again.
"It's like... Dave. Damn him. He was right."
"What do you mean?" he asked, as he tucked her hair behind her hair.
"Do you remember the toast he made at our engagement party?" She asked softly, putting her hand up and touching his arm, remembering how he had kept her tucked next to him for much of that night. She sighed when he took the signal and put his arm around her, holding her loosely. "Do you remember? It was from Carl Jung."
Jack shook his head and grinned. "What I remember is that you weren't wearing a bra with that red halter dress." He lifted his free hand and tentatively put his forefinger between her collarbones. When she smiled he began to slowly run the tip of his finger down her chest.
She stared at him and shook her head. "Thirty years later and he remembers that I was braless in a red halter dress, but not the lovely toast Dave made."
"I have my memory priorities, you have yours." Jack shrugged. A small smile played on his lips.
"You are such a...man!" Irina said in disgust, fighting back the urge to laugh, which would only encourage him.
"Hey, you made quite an impression on me that night when Dave was making that toast." He looked down as his finger reached the top curve of her breast and began to descend. Looking up under his lashes, he said softly, "You leaned forward to see him better, to look around me and the one side of the top gaped open and I could see almost clear down to your nipple." She gasped as his finger came so close to the nipple, stopped and made a circle around it.
"What?" She stopped, blinked, shook her head and looked up, away from the sight of his hand, so big and warm on her skin. "What? You could see.... You never told me that and I wore that dress all the..."
"All the time. I know. Life..." he sighed. "Was good." He raised his eyebrows and smiled. Then seeming to shrug, he bent forward and gave her a quick kiss, so quick she barely had time to pucker her own lips up before he was standing there, giving her one of those quick grins that had always made her heart swell with happiness.
She burst into laughter, unable to stop it. Then laughed again for the sheer joy of laughing with him once again, feeling that connection spring to life in their smiles and laughter. "You little...."
"I am endlessly opportunistic." As the words fell from his lips, lips that she wished would just kiss her the way she knew they both wanted already, he slid his hand over her breast. To her surprise, he just held it, rubbed his thumb across her breastbone. What was he doing? Testing the waters? Or...she looked into his eyes, seeing the concern there. Feeling... cherished by the warmth pouring into her from his eyes, from his hand. Feeling her heart beat under his thumb, he held onto the hope that this time her heart would prove true.
"Then and now." She nodded and carefully imitated him, put her hand on his heart. Was his heart truly big enough to forgive her? Dave had said it would take grace and strength and...
"People have patterns." Jack lifted both hands and began tracing circles on her skin, the way she had always liked, falling he knew, so easily into old patterns.
"Apparently..." She said absently, watching his hand circle around and around on her skin. Then her head snapped up, sensing the undercurrents, the undertow from which she had to break free for them both. "But I can break mine."
She felt, rather than saw him exhale deeply. His hands stopped, his body stilled and she felt that his heart had stopped too. He looked up slowly and she bit her lip at the hope she saw in his eyes, that he allowed her to see. "Can you? Will you? Do you---"
"I can. I will. I do."
"A new start." He nodded and knew it was a promise.
"It's...your turn." She reached up and traced his smile with her finger. Would he just kiss her already?
He looked at her for a moment, then his lips curved upward in a small half smile. She narrowed her eyes at the look in his. He was up to something.
"It's my turn to take care of you in a shower. Stand there," he said softly. "Don't move."
"I won't." She watched as he turned and reached out for the shampoo bottle still on the floor of the tub. "At least it was unbreakable," she noted quietly, realizing that he had cleared the tub of the green glass wine bottle she had dashed to pieces inside it.
"Yes. What is it with you and shattered glass?" He asked as he upended the bottle and poured a small circle of the shampoo into his palm.
"I like watching you bend over to pick it up for me?"
He gave a surprised burst of laughter. Then he surprised her when he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against hers. She could feel his smile against her and smiled herself.
"Tip your head back," he urged, brushing his lips across her cheek as he stood back up.
"Are you going to wash my hair?" she asked curiously. What was he doing?
"Glad to see your KGB training in observation coming in handy for this difficult bit of analysis," he commented, with a raised eyebrow.
"Smartass." But she took a step backward and tilted her head back into the warm stream of water.
"It's a mess. Let me detangle it. Close your eyes," Jack whispered as he stepped forward. When she did so, he took a moment to stare at her face, raised upward to him. He smiled and rubbing his hands together, took a breath and slid them into her hair. She sighed, then sighed again as he began massaging her scalp.
"Jack, what...." she began, her eyelids flickering open as her hands reached out and grasped his arms again for stability on the wet surface beneath them.