The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2005: Part 3 Section 1 of 4
Chapter 2005: Part 3: Section 1 of 4
Irina held open the door and Jack pushed the cart piled high with luggage and boxes out of the elevator.
"Mr. Bristow!" The doorman called out as he exited the second elevator. "I told you to wait and I'd help you with all that baggage your wife has."
"That's okay, Juan. I can handle her baggage---" Jack flicked a glance at his wife’s rear end and stepped nimbly out of the way before she could kick him. That was a nice skirt.
"It's my job, Mr. Bristow and I'm happy to help. The kid can watch the front desk for a bit. Besides, I owe you---"
"I've got it,” Jack gritted out.
"He has trouble accepting help," Irina said in a confiding tone. One had to suck up to the doorman in any location, after all. "That kind of self-reliance might be almost pathological, wouldn't you say?" She smiled as Jack gave her what Americans referred to as a dirty look and relinquished the cart.
The doorman stared as he took over pushing the cart. No wonder the new kid had said the new Mrs. Bristow was gorgeous. "Um, yes. I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself, earlier, Mrs. Bristow. I'm ---" The doorman paused at the look of surprise that passed swiftly across the woman’s face. “Oh - I must be the first person to call you that?”
“Yes, you are,” Irina admitted. In this lifetime, anyway. How many lives was she going to have? She had probably used up most of the nine allotted to a cat.
“Or are you keeping your own name?” The doorman continued as Jack led the way to the apartment and opened the door.
Irina watched Jack hit the security codes and nodded at him to indicate she had memorized them before turning back to the doorman who was waiting politely. “I... You can call me Mrs. Bristow. I suppose I just need to become accustomed to it.”
“So, it’s brand new, then,” the doorman surmised as he pushed the cart inside the front hallway.
Irina decided to try out the story. “More or less. We were married before, then...well, we lost each other and now we’ve gotten back together.”
“Ah. Congratulations are still in order, I assume?”
“Yes,” Jack and Irina said in unison, then smiled at each other. Jack looked down and then away. Irina smiled at him.
The doorman cleared his throat and hid his own smile. “Where do you want me to put the luggage? In the living room or bedroom?”
“I don’t think it will all fit in the bedroom,” Jack said, looking at the pile on the cart. “Geez, honey, how much---”
“This is just the tip of the ice berg, I would think,” the doorman interjected. “If she’s anything like my wife.”
“Just put it all in the living room for now, Juan,” Jack said, pointing to a corner. “We’ll sort it out later...” He looked over at his wife, who was even now moving swiftly around, taking in everything for the first time and no doubt, Jack thought, automatically checking for signs of intruders. In a flash he realized that she had probably done that every time she had entered their house. Then. Now. That much would not change. Unfortunately.
“I’ll get a key for Mrs. Bristow made up,” the doorman offered.
Sydney swiped her key card through the card reader and took a deep breath as she and Vaughn stepped into the rotunda. She stopped as she saw Dixon approaching.
“Syd, you’re just delaying...” Vaughn whispered.
Dixon greeted Sydney and Vaughn as they met in the hallway outside the rotunda. She looked tired, bruised. They had all been bruised, these last few months. So much death, loss. And for Sydney and Jack, regaining and then losing ...that woman, whoever she was. Who knew? Did she? Even now, was she alive or dead? And did it make any difference at all? Wasn’t loss through death or betrayal equally difficult? “Sydney, Vaughn. What are you doing here? I thought you were taking at least another day---”
“My dad says he knows it was my mom in my apartment the night of ...”
“What?” Dixon stopped. Well, apparently that was one question answered. “Is he certain?”
“He said he knew that it was her, putting the blankets over us. I assume she was also the one who shot---”
Dixon began rapid firing questions. “How does he know that? That it was your mother in your apartment? Did she tell him and if so, why? Or--”
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m here to find out,” Sydney told him as they all entered the rotunda.
“But why? Jack’s car isn’t in his space,” Dixon pointed out.
“Damn it, I didn’t notice that!” Vaughn groaned.
“No, we were too busy arguing,” Sydney noted. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Where is he, though?” She looked up to see Weiss, Marshall and Kendall staring at her with various degrees of trepidation. Her eyes narrowed. They looked like the Three Stooges contemplating a movie with more than the usual number of eye jabs.
“Shit!” Weiss whistled. “I’m outta here.”
“Me too!!” Marshall exclaimed. “I think I’m entitled to a little free time, been working for more than twenty-four hours straight and you know that studies show a serious diminishment in one’s cerebral cortex brain activity after--”
“You’re gonna have a serious diminishment of brain activity if you think you’re deserting this ship right now, Flinkman,” Weiss hissed as Sydney ate up the ground in quick, hard strides.
“Do not move,” Kendall ordered. “We’re all going to hang together or hang separately and---”
“I’d really prefer it if none of us were hung,” Weiss noted out of the side of his mouth.
“Speak for yourself, Weiss,” Kendall whispered with a stab at humor.
“Welll,” Sydney said as she walked up.
Marshall cleared his throat into the tension-filled silence. “Can I say how much better you look now than you did in the hospital? Not that you don’t always look beautiful because you do, but you are certainly looking better. Not that you ever look bad. Because nosirrebob you don’t. I mean, you’re probably make a beautiful corpse. If a corpse can be beautiful. Which I don’t think it or would that be he or she - well, whatever, I don’t think a corpse can be beautiful. Although my mother’s friend, Madeline, who’s a beautician at a funeral home, does insist that there are good looking bodies and bad looking bodies. And whoohoo, I know that’s true. Although I’m not looking at dead bodies that way. No, I’m not. And why is everyone looking at me that way?”
After blinking a few times, Sydney crossed her arms and looked around. “Where’s my father? Wait, let me take a wild guess. He’s quote unquote unavailable and you can’t tell me where he is, right?”
Vaughn came up behind her. “Syd. Don’t assume. Maybe he’s using a different M.O.”
“Fine. I won’t. But I bet you can’t tell me where he is right?” She looked from one man opposite her to the next.
“Wellll,” Weiss began. “He’s not available. I guess.”
“He’s expecting to see you later today. He told us all that,” Kendall interjected. “He’ll be available later. Not now, though. ”
“Why not?’
“He’s busy,” Marshall spoke up.
“Doing what?”
Kendall cleared his throat and answered. “He’s actually resting after spending a good bit of the early morning hours interrogating a prisoner.”
“Oh.” Sydney stopped tapping her foot. “I suppose...that’s a good reason. But why didn’t you just tell--”
“How nice of you to concede that the man might need a rest on occasion,” Kendall snapped.
Sydney stared at him then shrugged. Kendall was such a jerk. She sighed. “I guess this was a waste of time. I’ll go over to his apartment.” She touched Vaughn’s arm. “Will you come with me?”
Vaughn felt his eyebrows ascend into his forehead. “To Jack’s place? Me?”
“What’s the matter, Vaughn? Afraid of Jack’s basement o’ torture toys?” Kendall asked.
“He can’t have a basement of torture toys, Kendall,” Marshall protested. “He lives in a high rise apartment. And oh...” Marshall waved his hands around. “Don’t mind me, I’m tired.”
Um, yeah,” Vaughn said slowly. Turning to Sydney, he urged her, “So, let’s go see your father. Okay?”
“Nah, don’t bother,” Weiss spoke up quickly. “Jack has to come back in to interrogate Sark.”
“Yes, he will,” Kendall agreed. Leaning toward Weiss, he turned his head to whisper, “Call Jack now. We can’t deal with Sydney until Jack’s done...resting. I mean, how long...”
“I’ve read the manual.” Weiss whispered back and took a few steps away before taking out his phone. He took another step; the acoustics in here allowed one to eavesdrop easily.
Irina looked around curiously as she walked from room to room. It wasn't a big apartment, but it was light. Airy even, with the vaulted ceiling in the living room. Too light perhaps though with all that, oh no, white walls and tan carpeting. Irina turned and pointing her finger at her husband, said sharply, "Jack, we're going to redecorate."
Jack and the doorman looked at each other and sighed. "Here I go..." Jack whispered.
"You don't look like you mind," the doorman whispered back. Mr. Bristow was actually making small talk. Well, maybe he was the kind of guy who was uncomfortable making small talk and his wife relaxed him enough or... Maybe he was just happy now.
"Not really," Jack agreed with a small smile. He was making small talk. He could do this. It wasn’t so bad. And it was better than saying nothing, feeling alone, he supposed. No, not supposed. He knew. He was just out of practice in his personal life. He could do this. "As long as she's here, I don't care what color the damn walls are."
"Really?” Irina turned and smiled as she peered down the hall again. “Well, chartreuse is a very fashionable color right now." This time, damn it, they were going to do this together. Even if she had to drag him into every Home Depot in the greater LA area.
"What color is chartreuse?" Jack asked, playing the game she so clearly wanted to play.
"Bile green," Irina said eagerly, waiting for Jack to take his cue.
"Absolutely not!" Jack told her with a roll of his eyes. "If that's your idea of a good color for a home---"
"So we'll look at paint chips together then. We didn't last time."
"We'll look at houses together, honey. We did that last time," Jack reminded her. “That was... fun.” He picked up a suitcase and brought it into the bedroom.
"Nice to meet you, " Irina said, while holding out her hand to the doorman.
Shaking it, the doorman agreed. "Same here. I can see you're already good for Mr. Bristow. He always seemed somewhat quiet, sad, I guess. I've seen him smile and say more in the last few minutes than in the last year."
"Good," Irina said with satisfaction, hiding her regret from this stranger, but forcing herself to acknowledge it. Now, would the man leave, she thought irritably, so she could show Jack just how much she owed him! She reached into her purse and pulled out a bill to tip the doorman just as Jack returned.
“No, no,” the doorman protested. “I couldn’t, not for helping you move in. Consider it a wedding present.”
“Of course,” Irina said graciously and walked toward the door. Opening it, she avoided shoving the man through it and closed it behind him with relief. Turning to face her husband, she held out her hands and asked wryly, “First donuts and now baggage handling for wedding presents? Just where did we register? Cheapskates R Us?”
Jack smiled and pulled his wife into his arms. “I don’t know, Mrs. Bristow.”
“I didn’t think about that until he asked me. I can’t go by Derevko, can I?”
“Not Irina Derevko. While I doubt my neighbors have bookmarked the CIA’s website page with the most wanted list...” Jack lost his train of thought as his wife feathered kisses along his jawline. What was it... Oh. “Just in case...”
“Just in case, I need an alias.” Irina kissed his chin. “Although I suppose Bristow is hardly an alias. It was my name. But what do you think...”
“I think it’s your choice. It’s your name.” Jack gave her a last kiss, then moved away to pick up two suitcases and bring them into the bedroom.
“You’re no help.” Irina followed behind him, carrying yet another suitcase and enjoying the view before her. Although, she sighed, it would be better if he were wearing jeans. Surely he had jeans. Black ones. If not, they were going shopping. She looked around the bedroom, envisioning even more shopping. White walls, tan carpeting. Boring, nondescript furniture. Although... the headboard did have two endposts... Possibilities, possibilities, she decided. “Jack---”
Ring
Jack rolled his eyes and put down the suitcases. “Weiss,” he told Irina as he flipped open his phone. “You might as well get changed - this call means we’ll be going back to work and that entice-your- husband outfit isn’t going to be worn again in broad daylight.” He smiled as Irina rolled her eyes.
“What will you give me if I change?” Irina challenged him.
“Whatever you want,” Jack told her, as his eyes skimmed up and down her body.
“Right now, I want to look around, if that’s okay with you.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s our place, at least until we find a house.” Jack reached out and touched the key on the chain around her neck. “You just want to find the lock that matches your key.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Irina said with a deliberately-deeper accent, just to see Jack smile. Yes, there it was. She had a good weapon with her voice now, she decided; she had a weapon equal to Jack’s voice in the game between them.
“Well, go ahead. I made it easy for you.”
“Why?”
“I thought that when you returned there might be other...things that were hard. Quite hard.” Jack smiled as his wife shook her head. “So I thought I’d keep that easy. So snoop to your heart’s content.”
“I would never snoop,” Irina sniffed. “I would merely investigate my surroundings.”
“Well, go ahead.”
“I will,” Irina agreed, touching the key around her neck. “And then I want to talk to you about the charm.”
Jack nodded and began speaking into his phone as Irina left the room. “Yes, Weiss?”
“I’m sorry to call, Jack. But two things. One is that Sark couldn’t tell me the information--”
“What does that mean?” Jack asked sharply, feeling a small warning bell go off. Only it wasn’t so much a warning as... Warning meant danger. He didn’t feel danger, but what was it? “Do you mean, he wouldn’t tell you?”
“No. He tried, but he couldn’t.”
“What do you mean, couldn’t?” Jack pressed. “Exactly, what do you mean?”
“I think there’s something...preventing him. He wanted to tell me. He wanted to get it over with. He kept rubbing---”
“His temple.” Jack said it flatly, as he devoted his energy to wondering who had set this game in play. Sloane? “There’s a trigger waiting to be fired.”
“In his head? What is this, Russian roulette?”
“Let me ask.” Walking after his wife, he found her in the guest bedroom, poking around in the dresser when the lock was nearly knocking her in the knees. So close, but not close enough... That sounded like it was going to be the theme for the rest of the day. “Honey, did you ever implant a suggestion of any kind in Sark that would prevent him from telling Weiss the intel?”
“No,” Irina said flatly. “The boy was incredibly difficult to put under. Impossible really. Almost as if...” She shook her head and wondered at the flicker at the back of Jack’s eyes. “The short answer is, no. I didn’t. Are you thinking that someone else might have? Who? Sloane?”
Jack shook his head and ignored the nearly-silent click in his mind as he began talking to Weiss. “No. He does not excel at that work. Never did. Even with the kids.” Especially with the kids, Jack remembered. “Possibly because one’s subconscious recognizes the danger before itself. That’s why when the two of us were a team, I always did that ...” Jack firmed his lips, and willed away the memory of Dave teaching him hypnosis. “I’m sorry, Weiss, I got sidetracked...”
“Your damned elliptical thought process...” Irina rolled her eyes and began prowling around the room once more. She was still surprised to see this guest room, as nondescript as it was with a plain double bed, dresser, and some chest at the base of the bed. Nothing on the walls, nothing. She turned around looking.
“And the point is that Sark’s not talking and insists on seeing me.” Jack watched her turn in circles and grinned. She could tell she was warm but couldn’t see it.
“Yes.” Weiss kept an eye on Sydney and Vaughn. They seemed...awkward with each other this morning. Damn, they were going to get a lot more tense around each other shortly. Might as well just get it over with. “You need to come back in. I really feel that it’s important. He kept insisting that he had to talk to you. Immediately. I would have called earlier, but I, um, didn’t want to disturb you, but given that they’re already there...”
“Who?” Jack smiled as Irina walked toward him and leaned against him looking around the room.
“Sydney and Vaughn. The gang’s all here. Waiting for you.”
“Great,” Jack said resignedly as Irina tugged on his tie and left the room. He trailed her down the hallway. “Let Sark know I’ll be back in shortly.”
“Jack---” Weiss began, looking sideways at Vaughn who was looking sideways at him.
“Weiss, what is it?”
“Listen, Syd’s here and I’m not sure how long we can avoid---”
“Jack, you really don’t have any food here!” Irina called out from the kitchen. “And where’s your toaster?”
“I don’t have one,” Jack called back. “Weiss, what did you say? You need a way to distract Sydney until we get there or--”
“Yeah. And---”
“You need, we need to get a toaster,” Irina protested. Who didn't have a toaster? That was abnormal. How could she give him toast if he didn't have a toaster? This was damn annoying.
“I know. Maybe someone will give us one from the Cheapskates R Us registry.” Jack smiled as Irina walked by him on the way to the bedroom. That was a great skirt. A great skirt. Not as good as the BOB dress, but then again, what was?
“Jack!” Weiss hissed. “Will you stop talking about...domestic stuff, which is totally freakin’ me out, by the way--”
“Why? Do you think I don’t eat? Let me assure you, I do eat.” Jack stood in the doorway of the bedroom and dropped his eyes to his wife’s breasts, then lower, laughing silently when she threw her shoe at him.
“I know you eat, that’s not the point!”
“Then what is?” Jack tilted his head to watch Irina take off her other shoe. Watching her undress was almost as good as doing it himself. Almost.
“My god, you’re irritating when you’re in this mood---” Weiss muttered to himself. Then he blinked. Jack was probably a little bit distracted because he wasn’t in the mood to come back into work... And he decided he’d end that thought right there, especially given the looks Sydney was giving him. Because that would be bordering on creepy, as in ‘time to see Barnett myself’ kinda creepy.
“Weiss, what’s the problem? You’re wasting my time.”
“I”m...Arggh! Oh wait, that was a joke?”
“Apparently not,” Jack said dryly, watching his wife nod and smile at him as he talked to Weiss.
“Who are you talking to?” Sydney asked in the background. “It can’t be my dad, you wouldn’t speak to my dad that way. No one speaks to my dad that way, joking around...”
“Ignore her,” Jack ordered Weiss as well as himself as he sighed and watched his wife wiggle out of her skirt. Did she really have to wiggle around like that? Seeing the sly grin on her face he knew, yes, she had to do that? Thank god.
“Do you know anything at all about your daughter?” Weiss groaned. “She’s not really ignorable.”
“I know. Like her mother... And ignorable is not a word,” Jack pointed out, standing in the doorway watching his wife peel off her stockings. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Jack protested, “I wanted to do that.”
Irina looked over her shoulder as she slowly wound the stockings through the end post of the bed. “Don’t worry. You’ll have your chance to play with the stockings.”
Gulp.
“Jack, did you just gulp?” Weiss asked, amusement clear in his voice.
“No, of course not,” Jack scoffed. “I don’t gulp.”
“Then why am I hearing Irina laughing in the background?”
“Because she’s an evil woman?” Jack asked as his wife bent over her suitcase for far longer than it should take to pull out a pair of black jeans. Those panties had been black lace. Life was good. He shrugged as she looked over her shoulder and caught the direction of his gaze and smiled slowly. She decided that the cost of that lingerie was totally negligible if it enticed that priceless look of desire from him.
“No argument there,” Weiss agreed, still amused.
“Why are you getting dressed?” Jack asked as Irina pulled on the black pants and finished dressing, leaving the red shirt on.
“Well,” Weiss drawled. “I don’t think you’d want to see me at work in my BVDs, now would you?”
“Weiss, are you talking to my dad like that?” Sydney asked, sounding completely confused.
“Your father has his moments,” Weiss parried.
“Apparently this isn’t one of them, however,” Jack sighed as his wife laid a black jacket on the bed. “But about Sydney....”
“I’m open to suggestions, here.”
“I don’t need to know any more about you and Kendall, so let me move on...” Jack watched as Irina walked by him slowly. Dragging her fingertips up and down his tie, she tugged on it once before leaving the room. Jack paused to take a little breath before continuing. “You want to distract Sydney so she’s not asking any difficult questions?”
“Got it in one.”
“And I’d like it if she were prepped a little. So... ask her if she has any memories of playing games with her parents.” Jack followed his wife into the guest bedroom once again. She was making him dizzy, all this wandering around. Covering the phone, he told her, “You’re getting warmer.”
“Not as warm as I’d like to be though,” Irina said, looking back over her shoulder and dropping her gaze down his body.
“Such as?” Weiss asked. Again.
“Cards.” Jack bit the word out as Irina bent over and looked under the bed, flipping her hair out of the way. Her hair was so long now and...
“Such as?”
Jack reached down and pinched Irina’s butt, laughing to himself when she banged her head. “The usual. Poker, bridge, hearts, pinochle, Screw Your Neighbor.”
“Just out of curiosity, which is your favorite?” Weiss asked.
“I suppose for a long time my favorite game might have been Screw Your Neighbor.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Weiss chuckled softly.
“But now, it’s going to be Screw My Old Friend Arvin Sloane.”
Weiss nodded as his gaze swept the rotunda and touched on everyone there. “I think we’ll all look forward to winning that game.”
“I’ll be in as soon as I can,” Jack promised. He smiled at Irina’s annoyed face as he ran his hand over her upraised butt and moved between her legs. She wiggled away and then rolled over onto her back and stared up at him.
“Don’t you want to talk to Sydney?”
“Talk to Sydney? Right now?” Jack choked as his wife slowly raised her shirt over her stomach with a look on her face... He blinked and looked away. “Have I ever given you the impression that I’m a masochist?” Jack asked.
“Jack!” Irina called out, sitting up. “Don’t be such a baby, talk to Sydney.”
Weiss turned around to face away from everyone, fearful that they could see the awe on his face. Someone had just called Jack Bristow a baby? Irina Derevko was tough. And she was going to get her way, no doubt. Weiss turned back to Sydney and motioned her over. Sure enough, he heard Jack sigh and say in a grouchy tone, “Fine.”
Sydney took the phone and spoke into it, “Daddy? Where are---”
“I’m at home, Sydney. I’ll be into the office soon.” Jack nodded at Irina, who stood up and pulled down her shirt.
“I know, Sark has to be interrogated and---”
“I also want to talk to you. I have some...things to tell you.”
“Good things or bad things?”
“I think, I know in the end...” After you finish killing me, Jack decided as he looked over at his wife, looking down at the hope chest. “It will be a good thing.”
“Promise?”
“Promise, Sydney.” Jack smiled. “I’ll be in soon. Now I need to speak to Weiss again.”
“Hey, Jack," Weiss said and then stopped. What had he just said? Had he just acted like Jack was... Nah. They couldn't be acting...friendly? Could they? He blinked and shook his head. "I just looked at the monitors. Sark is pacing back and forth like... I can’t think of an analogy.”
“Like a guard on the Berlin Wall?” Jack asked, as his wife also paced back and forth. “Pacing out of boredom? Or perhaps, holding in something that doesn’t want to be imprisoned?”
“Yeah, like that. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.”
“Tell him I’ll be in soon. Traffic...” Or something, Jack thought, watching her walk.
“Jack? Yeah, I’m sure it’s thoughts of traffic that are distracting you,” Weiss chuckled. “But should I amp up his anxiety about your arrival or not?”
“Tell him... I’ll engage in whatever interrogation techniques will prove most effective.” Jack said good bye and flipped his phone closed. “Speaking of which...Irina Derevko, I think there’s something you wanted to tell me? Do I have to interrogate you to---”
“Oh, that would be a good game, Jack,” Irina said, musing on the possibilities. Did he realize the game she had just played on him? “You like Weiss, don’t you? I do too,” Irina told him, walking over toward him. Why hadn’t Sydney fallen in love with Weiss? No, it had to be Bill Vaughn’s boy in some great karmic convergence of intersecting circles. Another test, she knew, touching the key flirting with the neckline of her shirt.
“Yes, I do actually. I think that’s probably the longest conversation I’ve ever had with him though.”
“Because I kept you distracted enough that you could talk, conversationally, without getting...”
“Don’t say it!” Jack warned, twisting his mouth. “I am not---”
“Of course not, you’re just reserved,” Irina agreed, still looking around the room. “So I’m warm in this room.”
“Well, considering how you just manipulated me, I should tell you?”
“It was a good game.” Irina paused and then said slowly, flattening her accent out, “I love games, how about you?”
Jack stared at her and then smiled slowly. “I love you.” A beginning, then and now. A circle. He looked down at her bare hand and thought of the sketches of rings that he should hide. He wanted to surprise her with her ring.
Irina closed the distance between them and took his hand in hers, rubbing it gently. “I love you too. You were, are the best partner in the best game. And in the others... You were very good at partner games, in those days, remember? Especially Bridge.”
“God, I haven’t played that in so long, I’ve probably forgotten--”
“I doubt it. And I hope not, because I’d like your help in figuring something out.”
“Of course, but I think you heard we have to go back in.”
“I never doubted it,” Irina sighed. “It would be just too much to hope that we’d get an hour alone---”
“As you heard, Sydney and Vaughn are there too.” Jack stroked her hair as it spilled down her back, feeling the tension. She was anxious about Vaughn. Sydney wouldn’t be a problem for her. Just me, he thought, resignedly. “Honey, about Vaughn--”
“Is it too early in the morning for a stiff drink?” Irina quipped, resting her head on her husband’s shoulder until she heard his tone of voice and snapped her head back up.
“Wellll,” Jack said slowly, touching the center of her lower lip. “If your mouth hasn’t forgotten any of its tricks, then you could have a stiff drink very quickly--- Ouch!” Jack stared at his fingertip. “You bit me. Hard,” he complained. “And need I remind you that I am the one who’s supposed to provide hardness in our relationship? Although...” Jack sucked his fingertip for a second and then touched it to the nipple that was pressing against her shirt. “You do have three hard points...”
Irina surrendered to the laughter. There was nothing else to do when he was in one of these moods, after all. “But before we go in, I told you, I need your help.”
“Since when do you want help?” Jack asked, wrapping his arms around her waist. He might as well enjoy this respite before going in and dealing with Sydney. How had they come to such a pass that he was dreading seeing his only child? “Let alone admit needing it?”
“Since I got a brain---” Irina looked around the room again.
“Or would that be a heart?” Jack kissed her chest, then ran his hands firmly up her back to her shoulders.
“Can the Tinman jokes...” Irina began to laugh, then stopped to groan as Jack massaged the tension in her shoulders and closed her eyes. Warm, big hands. Perfect. “Can the Tinman jokes. Did you get that?”
“That was pathetic,” Jack noted. “Or you’re tired. I wish you could take a nap.”
“I wish we could both go to bed and not sleep at all,” Irina teased. “I saw the way you were looking at my lingerie.”
“I saw the way you were looking at the endposts of the bed,” Jack teased back.
Irina stared at the look on her husband’s face; her reward, she decided, was that look on his face. Happiness, contentment, anticipation. At least until they saw Sydney. Sincerely, she told him, “I wish I could just tie you to that bed for a week...”
“Whatever you want. Later, I guess....” Jack circled her waist with his hands and rubbed his fingertips back and forth, smiling softly as she closed her eyes. Wasn’t she going to ask about her chain. She hadn’t even looked at the box sitting there, in the open, on the bureau. Why... Just ask her, he told himself. “Honey, don’t you want your chain?”
“What? No...” Irina opened her eyes and looked down at his hands around her waist, catching sight of the puzzlebox pendant on her chest. “Damn it, I almost forgot. This puzzlebox, the infinity charm--”
“I know it’s not a perfectly-molded piece like the original---”
“I know that, Jack,” Irina interrupted him. “And I want to tell you that I---”
“If you’d prefer, I can try molding again. It’s will take me quite a bit of time to practice, but---”
“Can you practice shutting up for ten seconds? I’m trying to talk!” Irina slapped him on the arm.
“Alright, already. Talk.” Jack heaved a sigh. So help him, if she whined about some imperfection in the charm he’d made...
“You remember how in the Wizard of Oz, they all already had everything they wanted? The heart, the courage, the brains---”
“The way back home?” Jack sighed impatiently. Her obsession with that movie was... understandable. “Yes. I may not have seen that movie as many times as you and Dave did -- then again, who has? But I do remember the basic plotline. There was this girl, who thought she wanted to leave home, but found out she really belonged at home with the people who loved her and the people -- some might call them a family -- she loved? That plotline?”
“Shut up.” Irina sniped at him. “I’ll show you,” Irina decided and taking the necklace over her head, she opened the puzzlebox.
“Damn, you’re fast at that.”
“Faster than you?” Irina asked quickly.
“Of course,” Jack agreed. Then he smiled. “Not.”
Irina rolled her eyes. “Well, the truth is, I’ve only done it about a million times since you gave it to me this time,” Irina admitted. “Trying to figure this out.” She held out her palm in which lay two tiny infinity charms. She expected to see shock in his face, but instead there was only a flicker of surprise, followed by a nod.
Jack looked up at her. He had been right. “I knew it. “
“What? You don’t look surprised. Did you---”
“I always suspected you had taken the charm with you.” Jack shrugged and ran his hands up and down her bare arms.
“What?” Irina clenched her fist closed over the charms. “You what?”
“I couldn’t find the charm, so I assumed you had taken it.” Jack stopped at the look of chagrin on her face. He hastened to say, “It’s okay, of course. The jewelry was always yours. Then. Now. I gave it to you as a gift, freely given. So why do you look so... “ Jack stopped and tilted his head, trying to read her expression.
“Jack, don’t make those kinds of assumptions,” Irina warned, wondering anew at her own unknown false assumptions that lay in wait.
“What do you mean?” There was more than one option? Jack looked down at the two charms. Of course there was more than one option.
“I didn’t take the charm when I left.”
“I was wrong. See how easy that is?” Jack stopped when he realized that she was impatient. More than impatient. Intense. “Okay. So Option B - you broke back in later and didn’t contact us then, is that the problem?”
“No! I didn’t break back into the house later to take the charm. If I had broken in, I would have taken the chain. I was obsessed with the chain. You know that--”
“I don’t understand. Tell me how you did acquire it then.” Jack felt tension grow in him as he watched it grow in her face. “You know you can tell me. How did you get it?”
Irina took a deep breath before blurting out, “You might say it was a gift. If you would call Cuvee throwing it in my face when I was tied to a chair in that prison in Kashmir a gift.”
“Cuvee? In Kashmir? How... why?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I wanted to talk to you about it. Doesn’t it seem...” Irina shook her head.”I’ve been having this nagging feeling that I’m missing something, something important...”
“Then you probably are. We are. So, let’s think about this...” Jack stared at her for a moment, then began again. “Okay, let’s look at it this way. We don’t know the how and the why, but we do know the when, right?” Jack asked, Irina nodded. “Or rather the chain of events. Cuvee threw it at you in that prison relative to what?”
“After he’d confronted me with the idea that I loved you. Remember how I said that the interrogators used the word doubleplay and it shocked me?”
“The charm came after that word, that American word?” Jack felt a chill go over him and watching Irina wrap her arms around herself, knew that it was shared. “That’s...not a coincidence. That connection.”
“No.” Irina frowned. “I’ve never been able to make the connection, connect the dots---”
“The dots?” Jack asked, hearing another nearly-silent click. There was something, something, he knew it. Could feel it. Saw the same knowledge in her face. Saw the realization that they needed to figure out...something. Together.
“Never mind. But why did you think I had it all these years?”
“I didn’t. Or rather that was one option, a preferable option than...” Jack frowned as he admitted, “I thought I could have lost it the day I’d had a tantrum and flung your jewelry cabinet across the room.”
“Oh.” Irina winced. For Jack to lose control of his anger like that... She straightened her shoulders and accepted that her betrayal had no doubt caused a great deal of anger. She had known that, known he had to, but hearing about it... She forced herself to ask, “What happened then?’
“Dave and Arvin happened to come by. Well, it was probably not happenstance. Dave just happened to drop in every other minute. It was shortly after he had been reassigned back to LA and...” Jack stopped. She was right. Dave and the dots... There were some dots that were missing.
“So you had a fit of anger, threw the cabinet across..what? The closet? Did one of them clean up the mess?” Irina rolled her eyes. “One of them? It was Dave, wasn’t it? Dave cleaned up the mess, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Arvin kept talking to me in the bedroom. I showed him that photo of you -- the one I liked --”
“The one from the night of the jewelry?”
“Yes. That was always my favorite. And there is surely some deep psychological meaning behind the fact that I threw your jewelry across the room and then went to look at the photo of you draped in gold. But anyway... I was talking to him about it, like...” Jack looked away.
“Like...” Irina prompted, putting her free hand on his arm.
“The look on his face. I think he thought I was a fool to have feelings for this woman in the picture.”
Irina tightened her hand on his arm. “I’m...grateful you could see the person within me, Jack. The potential. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” Jack whispered. Then taking a deep breath, he continued. “So, Arvin and I were in the bedroom. Dave said he’d clean up. He always ... did. Or tried to. He was in full caretaker mode at that time. Trying to help me. The dates in his portfolio around then...He was trying to help me---” Jack thrust the memories aside for the moment and refocused. “Let’s stick with the when question. Cuvee threw this at you in that prison? There’s something about the timing... When do you think that might have been? Any idea of the date? The month?”
Irina gave him the date and seeing something click in his face, asked, “Why?” She put the charms down carefully on the chest at the base of the bed.
“Hold on,” Jack whispered and left the room. Hearing him in the next room, his office, Irina began to pace.
“What is it?” Irina asked, not noticing she had spoken in Russian.”Why do you have Dave’s portfolio?”
“Put the charms down on the hope chest,” Jack told her. “Let me show you something.”
“What is it?” Irina asked, not noticing she had spoken in Russian.”Why do you have Dave’s portfolio?”
“Put the charms down on the hope chest,” Jack told her. “Let me show you something.”
Jack sat down on the floor and put the portfolio on top of the chest. He patted the space next to him, smiling up at her, holding out his hand. If what he was suspecting was true, she might want to be sitting down.
Irina took his hand and sat down next to him, smiling in happy remembrance of the day they had met, when she had patted the place next to her. She could feel his warmth next to her, just as she had that first day, feeling anticipation, anxiety, so much. Just feeling so much when she should have been paying attention to the game. She waited for him to speak and ran her eyes automatically over the chest, stopping when she came to the lock. No, it couldn’t be that easy. Could it? Could it be right before her?
Jack ran his hand up and down her back waiting for her to use the key, but when she did nothing, he opened the portfolio. “I put these papers back in chronological order recently and I read this portfolio in its entirety for the first time.”
“For the first time?” Irina reined in her impatience. Jack would tell this story in his own way, which appeared to be with some caution. She opened her palm and carefully allowed the two charms to spill out on to the polished surface of the chest under their hands, the tiny bits of gold winking up at her.
“Yes. It was a great gift, these words of Dave’s. Judy’s discovery of this portfolio. But...” Jack looked at the charms as well. Talismans, he supposed others might call them. When he had thought the infinity charm lost he had wondered if that meant he was going to suffer for its loss infinitely. How...superstitious, how foolish.
“She exercised so much effort on your behalf,” Irina said softly. “What amazing luck that you were finally given a good therapist, one who cared and knew how to handle your problems this time. I suppose it was your turn.”
“I suppose. As much as I appreciate the portfolio, the fact that it represents Dave’s caring and concern for me, it is not easy to read and digest. The words describe a time in my life that is difficult for me to recall.” Jack stopped and Irina nodded and put her hand on his knee. “But in doing so, in working through it, I noticed something. Found something that I thought, well, odd, but didn’t know how to analyze and so I filed it away until now. Now that you’re here, we can put this puzzle together. Because at a certain point, near the end, the way Dave writes about you changes.”
“Judy said something about that too. What do you mean, though?” Irina noted, as she followed Jack’s finger and scanned the entries. She stopped dead when she came to one of the last entries
TBC at Chapter 2005: Part 3 section 2 of 4