The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2006: Part 3

[camillecarelli]

Chapter 2006: Part 3

Jack walked... No, rather, Irina decided, the right word, was ‘stalked’. Jack stalked the area in front of the stairway to the plane that would take them west. Back and forth, back and forth. If he’d been a tiger, she would have seen his tail whipping with a whoosh of sound at each abrupt turn he made. He stopped and stared at his wife. “Was it really necessary to call the junior varsity and have them pick up dvds for what? The plane ride?”

“Yes.” Irina put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Yes. And--”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to entertain the kids on the ride. What’s next--”
“And for when we get there. For Dave,” Irina told him calmly. Someone had to stay calm. Oh, she supposed that the others might see only the impatience, but in the tight mouth and hooded eyes she saw a calmness that was a cover for anxiety. Or perhaps she could recognize it because it was like looking in a mirror. “After we find him, he might have to stay...quiet for a while, so I thought he might like to catch up on some movies from the last two decades.”

“And why did you ask for The Wizard of Oz then?” Jack asked as he glanced at his watch and frowned. Gesturing impatiently, he ushered her up the narrow stairs to the plane. Time to check and recheck their supplies, he decided, seeing the portable dvd player Marshall had given Irina in the front of their baggage. He pulled out his list and began reviewing it.

“I was hoping that if we watched it he might remember all the times he and I saw it together. Remember our friendship, that I.. loved him and that he loved Laura once. I was hoping that he then might think twice about any fantasies to kill me he’s used to pass the time over the years.” Irina took a breath and tried to smile. “Because although I’m sure I could take him, I’d hate to put a damper on our card games.”

Jack stopped checking off his list and took a step in front of her. “You know...” he said softly, touching her cheek. “I think the majority of his anger is directed at Arvin.”

“Yes. But I was the origin of it all. I’ll also be there. Available---” Irina motioned toward herself. “A perfect target for his anger at me and Arvin.”

“Then don’t be available. Don’t show yourself--” Jack suggested.

“Have I ever given you any indication of cowardice?”

Jack stared at her, admiring the courage she had shown recently. Then raising his hand, he began ticking off on his fingers, “Well, number one, there’s the small issue of not contacting us for twenty years. Then, number two, there’s not telling us the truth when you came back. Then there’s--”

“Oh, shut up,” Irina snapped at him. Then she tilted her head. “Wait, what would be number three?”

“If you kiss me, I promise I’ll forget.”

“If I what?” Irina gestured around them, then toward the cockpit door through which she could see the crew performing their pre-flight checks. “Have you forgotten that we’re in public?”

“No.” Jack smiled. Teasing his wife irritated her and relaxed him, a good doubleplay. “But there is a bathroom and actually...” Jack looked down at his watch. “Thinking of that list you gave them, we probably have time. We could just---”

“Not everyone has your complete lack of inhibitions, Jonathan Donahue Bristow!”

“And that’s a damn shame.” Jack slid his arm around Irina’s waist and pulled her against him. She was the best kind of distraction. Always had been, always would be. “We have time. I could give you a small taste of the advantages of being uninhibited---”

“Wait. A. Minute.” Irina shoved back. “That night you had sex with....Mellita...” She sneered, before continuing, “How did Dave know about that? And! Why did Dave refer to it as his night of debauchery? And---”

“Why don’t you ask Dave when you see him?” Because, Jack thought firmly, they were going to find Dave alive and he was eventually going to recover from whatever Arvin had done to him. He would not allow any other option to enter his mind because if he did... He halted his thoughts as he looked down at his wife and felt her hand patting his arm. If he did, she would catch him, he told himself equally firmly. Have faith.

“Dave is never going to tell me!” They were going to find Dave, Irina decided with every bit of stubborn belief she held within her. By nightfall tomorrow, they would have found him.

“Unless he’s gotten stupid over the years, that’s right,” Jack mumbled under his breath.

“You know...” Irina smiled and reached out both hands and snagged her fingers through her husband’s belt loops. “I could probably convince you to tell me the secrets of that night.”

“How? I don’t keep those secrets in a briefcase in my home office.”

“Very amusing.” Irina frowned at him and then brightened as she slid one hand up over Jack’s chest. “But I bet Zamir could probably find a bottle or two of that Indian rum for me and I could show you what I really wanted to do with it that night.”

“Could you?” Jack smiled as Irina tugged him toward the small plane bathroom. “In there? Right now?”

“Why not?” Irina reached out behind her and opened the door to the bathroom. She glanced inside and frowned. Talk about claustrophobic and Jack already must feel trapped.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps---” Jack broke off as Irina grabbed him by the shoulders and planted a firm kiss on his surprised mouth. It was her turn to be surprised when Jack pushed her against the doorframe and--

“Oh!” Sydney gasped from the doorway to the plane.

Jack stopped when he heard the muffled gasp and then a snort from behind him. Glaring at his wife for distracting him, he whirled around to see Weiss laughing, Dixon looking skyward, Sark looking confused, Vaughn looking disgusted and Sydney looking shocked. “It was just a kiss, Sydney,” Jack began to explain.

“Yes,” Irina sighed. “After all your father’s much too big of a man for us to use the bathroom comfortably for any other reason.”

Jack glared at her and snapped, “And you’re much too loud---” Once again Jack stopped, this time at the look of shock on his daughter’s face. “Did I just say what I think I said?”

“Yes,” Irina began to laugh.

“Oh my god,” Jack groaned. “Oh. Sydney. I’m...um, sorry about that. I’m---”

“And I’m just dreaming,” Sydney nodded. “That never really happened.”

“Works for me,” Jack agreed.

“You both are so repressed,” Irina laughed. “Sydney, I think you and I need to have a talk--”

“I think I’m going to go look at the Barbies again,” Sydney muttered. Taking the Toys R Us bag from Vaughn, she walked away quickly.

“I’ve got the food!” Weiss reminded them all, holding up white take out bags.

“Oh good,” Irina said. “Just what I wanted. Happy Family.”

“Are we there yet?” Weiss asked twenty minutes later, moments after the plane took off. He slid his foot out and shoved at Sydney’s, hoping that she’d use the improvisational skills she demonstrated against enemies to help kill the tension in this plane. Jack and Irina were understandably, if not obviously concerned about their friend. Sark was...confused and annoying. Dixon was calm. Thank God. Vaughn was a bundle of dry firewood just waiting for a match. If he’d had a magnifying glass, he could have set Irina on fire from the heat of his glares alone. This was going to be a long plane ride.

“We just took off--” Jack answered absently as he pulled out his list to check it once again. He missed Weiss kicking Sydney’s foot. Irina did not and nodded appreciatively at Weiss and meaningfully at her daughter. When that failed, Irina mouthed, ‘Take the hint!’

“Yeah. I’m hungry, Daddy,” Sydney added, realizing that something had to be done. Vaughn looked like his face might splinter off into wrinkle-sized shards. Her father must be anxious too about Dave, although he looked the same as he always did. “Daddy---”

“You just ate--”

“And I think I need to go to the bathroom,” Weiss added.

“There’s one up front. I think we all heard about it when we entered,” Dixon said with a smile he hid behind his hand. Too bad Marshall wasn't along for the ride. He and Eric together might have been more successful in shortening what he feared was going to be the longest plane ride of his life.

“That’s yucky and I’m bored.” Sydney sighed and pouted. Jack looked up from his list and rolled his eyes. Sydney recrossed her legs and accidentally hit the chain attached to handcuffs that bound Sark to a crate.

“She’s on my side of the seat,” Sark said, poking Sydney, who glared at him.

Irina’s mouth dropped open as she watched Sark. Who was that? A moment after speaking, he now looked as confused as she felt. She looked at Jack, who was watching Sark with narrowed eyes. Jack looked at her. She shrugged. He shrugged. Sark closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

“Believe me, Julian, I am nowhere near your side of the seat and your cooties,” Sydney snapped back. “And your New Jersey accent.”

“I admit,” Dixon said with a smile. “That it amuses me to imagine that Sark is from New Jersey.”

“I admit that I’m positively appalled by the notion,” Sark agreed, his eyes still closed.

“I admit that I find that a reasonable explanation for his behavior,” Vaughn sniped from his position as far away in the circle from Irina as he could possibly get. “Too much exposure to petrochemicals as a baby might have permanently warped his brain.”

“Really?” Sark asked. “Then what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t need one, I’m from California---”

“Ah, then perhaps your parents imbibed too freely of the hippie atmosphere and drugs during---”

“Irina, you were right. One child was enough.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Why did you bring Sark along, anyway?” Vaughn asked. “He is yet another person we can hardly trust.” He glared at Irina.

“Of course we can trust him,” Jack explained patiently. “Because I’ll use the protocol on him and if all else fails, I’ll shoot him.”

“How comforting,” Vaughn and Sark said in unison and then glared at each other.

Dixon spoke up quickly. This was going to be a long plane ride. “Jack, do you think Sark is from New Jersey or did Dave just give him that accent?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Jack ran his hands through his hair and looked down at his watch. Irina tapped him on the arm and squeezed his forearm with her hand.

“Did Dave know about New Jersey?” Irina asked suddenly.

“No!” Jack said quickly, appalled.

“Know what?” Sydney asked.

“Nothing,” Jack said firmly, glaring at his wife.

“New Jersey...” Irina sighed with a coy look at her husband. “I have fond memories of New Jersey.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” Jack asked quickly. “Why don’t you just close that page in your memory book--”

“But Sydney wants to know--”

“So do I,” Weiss added, raising his hand.

“Let’s live the American way and take a vote,” Irina suggested with a smile. “Show of hands?”

“No. My New Jersey type moments are not a referendum for public discussion.”

“Again, Jack, you’re too repressed.” Irina smiled and tapped her fingertips on her knee. Distracting Jack from his worries was essential, and telling Sydney this story would be a good way to begin their new life together.

“What does repression have to do with New Jersey?” Weiss asked. “I mean it’s the Garden State not the Guarded State.” Weiss paused. Everyone groaned. Weiss sniffed and then shrugged. “Seriously, Jack. What does repression have to do with New Jersey?”

“Nothing.” Jack pressed his lips together.

“Actually, you’re correct, Jack--” Irina put her hand on his arm.

“See, it is becoming easier to admit the obvious,” Jack said, looking smug.

Irina looked up into Jack’s eyes, keeping his gaze on her. “What’s obvious is that I was wrong. Because a repressed man would have never done what you did in New Jersey--”

“Nor would he still occasionally feel a twinge in his back in cold weather from--” Jack bit his words off as he saw Sydney’s mouth drop open slightly. He glared at his wife. She smiled unrepentantly. He narrowed his eyes. “And speaking of cold---”

“How lucky that you live in warm southern California then,” Irina said quickly, putting her hand on her husband’s knee and giving him a long look from under her lashes. “In case we wanted to repeat--”

“If I were lucky, I would die. Now,” Sydney moaned, recognizing -- if dimly -- the look her mother was giving her father. That look usually presaged Uncle Dave taking her out for ice cream. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need to know--”

“I’ll tell you about New Jersey later, Sydney,” Irina promised. Her eyes promised something else to her husband, who smiled and shook his head.

“Um, that’s okay. I’m not sure I want to know,” Sydney mumbled, seeing the hint of red in her father’s cheeks. Yup, that confirmed it. She didn’t want to know.

“Nonsense,” Irina said briskly. “Don’t be squeamish. It’s...women’s knowledge that should be handed down from mother to daughter.”

“Yeah, in Twisted Town,” Jack mumbled.

“What was that?” Irina asked, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe I should just tell Sydney now.”

“Nothing. It was nothing at all...” Jack suddenly smiled. “My lovely wife. My darling. My...chickie.”

“WHAT?” Irina exclaimed, slapping her hand on the floor.

“Good save, Jack,” Dixon whispered, barely moving his lips and turning his head to the side.

Jack nodded gravely as Irina waxed less than rhapsodic about the use of the word ‘chickie’ in relation to herself.

“I am not a chickie-type person. I have never been a chickie-type person. And I will never be a chickie-type person.”

“What’s a chickie-type person?” Jack asked blandly, leaning back on one elbow. “Do tell.”

“First of all, a chickie-type person would be...” Irina thought. “A blonde!”

“Judy’s a blonde. Is she a chickie-type person?” Weiss asked.

“No, of course not. Judy’s not silly or frivolous or--” Irina pointed out.

“Maybe she was. In the past. Maybe when she was a young woman, she was a chickie-type person.” Jack shrugged.

“Don’t be an idiot, Jack,” Irina snapped at him, seeing a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Judy’s not...the chickie type. She’s never been, I would think.”

“But do you know that? I mean, people change.”

“No, they don--” Irina stopped. She groaned. She was basing the rest of her life on the notion that she could change.

“So...Irina. Am I right?” Jack smiled.

“Shut up.” Irina reached her leg out and kicked Jack’s elbow out from under him. “Have I mentioned to you lately that I hate when you use logic against me?”

“Yes. But you’re easily distracted by arguing.” Jack sat up.

“Ha!” Sydney exclaimed. “I guess I get that from you, Mom,” she laughed. Then stopped laughing when she saw the stricken look on Vaughn’s face, before he looked down and away.

“Speaking of which, the story -- it has to do with your birth, Sydney,” Irina told her quickly, eager to deflect attention away from Vaughn, as well as to tamp down her growing impatience with him. If he had something to say, then say it, she was close to yelling at him. She was rapidly growing fond of the idea of having a verbal slinging match, but... She looked over at Jack who was shaking his head. Not now. She could take a hint.

“Oh.” Sydney’s desire to hear that story warred with her need not to know any stories about what her parents might have been doing in New Jersey that hurt her father’s back. Nope, didn’t need to know that. Not at all. “But I wasn’t born in New Jersey.”

Jack shook his head. “No. And again, Irina, might I point out that the other people sitting here have no interest in a story---”

“Speaking for myself, count me in. I’m interested,” Weiss said.

“I’m positively agog at the notion of ascertaining the answer to a question that has puzzled me for ages,” Sark noted.

“Which is?” Sydney asked, knowing she should not.

“Were you born with that invisible tiara or did Jack buy it for you later?” Sark smirked.

“Mom!” Sydney called out. “Make him stop.”

Irina smiled as she bent her head and rested it on her husband’s shoulder. Weiss turned his head and bit his lip. Dixon looked skyward. Vaughn rubbed his forehead. Jack looked particularly stiff, Irina decided as she peeked upward. He must be trying to hold in his laughter. Or concentrating on not strangling all of them. Or...then again, she saw him look at his watch, he might be concentrating on not screaming his frustration at how much longer it would take them to reach Kashmir.

“Were you smiling at his comment, Mom?” Sydney demanded to know. “You were, weren’t you?”

“Don’t worry. You’re her favorite,” Sark sniped. “Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but I’m the one in chains.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I noticed,” Sydney smiled. “It proves to me that there is a god. Because if anyone ever belonged in chains, it’s you. ”

“Really? Does it do something for you?” Sark asked, then grunted when Vaughn reached out and snapped the chain tight to the link bolted to the floor.

“I’m not the one yanking your chain, Agent Vaughn. Everyone here can see that all Irina has to do is look crosseyed at you and you’d find yourself--”

“Julian.” Jack’s quiet voice snapped through the air like a whip.

Sark sat up straight and waited for the inevitable threat. But perhaps a good offense... “I believe I have expressed my dissatisfaction with that name---”

“Yes. You have.” Jack explained with a patience he did not really feel, “And when you act like a good boy, I’ll call you Sark. When you act like a bad boy, I’ll call you Julian.”

“I am not a rat in a cage whose behavior can be modified by positive and negative reinforcement.”

“As you wish. Julian. Do get up and see how free you are to go. Julian.” Jack smiled that smile that was not a smile at all.

Sark stared at Jack and then nodded in concession. “Excellent point. I am, once again, in a cage. Albeit of a different sort.”

“Yes. As are we all,” Jack said softly, forcing his shoulders to relax, forcing himself to not imagine Dave chained and bleeding in some dank cave.

Dixon cleared his throat. “I’m sure your friend will make it, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “But you, Sark. If you are at least as intelligent as the average rat, you’ll learn quickly that it is to your benefit to engage in behaviors that result in positive reinforcement rather than negative.”

“You could simply engage the protocol again.” Vaughn suggested. Had Jack brainwashed Irina? Was that why he seemed so confident in her future trustworthiness? No, Jack would not want a cipher. He had probably always enjoyed--

Jack shook his head. “There’s no challenge in that.”

“You prefer the challenge, Jack?” Dixon asked, deciding to ask Jack as soon as he could just what his game plan was in regards to Sark.

“Look whom I married,” Jack smiled when his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

“Were you always....” Weiss asked curiously of Irina and then stopped at the look of disgust on Vaughn’s face, which flushed alarmingly. Weiss wondered just what it would take to make Vaughn explode and if that was Jack’s intention.

“Difficult? Demanding? Or--” Jack began.

“We don’t need three words, Jack,” Irina interrupted. “And besides as I recall, you enjoyed the fact that I was demanding at times.” She smiled up at him and Sydney closed her eyes. “Remember New Jersey?”

Jack gave her a look. “No. Actually what I was remembering was West Virginia. And you breaking my hand.”

“Mom broke your hand?” Sydney asked, her eyes popping open. “I never heard this story- or did I?”

“No. You were too young to hear about the horrors of West Virginia.” Jack held out his hand. “Your mother was a bitch in childbirth. Unfortunately she was a very strong bitch.”

“I was not a bitch!” Irina protested, glad to see Jack’s jaw relax as they talked. “And it was just a hairline fracture. Stop whining about it.”

“You were so demanding...” Jack laughed softly. “‘Do this, Jack! Do that, Jack!’ Nothing I did could please you. Any minute I expected you to say, ‘Off with your head!’”

“I see. This is why Sydney was born with the tiara? Irina thought she was queen?” Sark asked.

Jack leaned down and whispered in Irina’s ear, “I remember one time in particular when I thought you were my queen. Do you remember that?” He’d like a do over of that night, Jack decided. Maybe she could wear that sari again, if it was still in wearable condition. Or just the jewelry or... He sat up and forced himself to calculate how long it would be before they reached the airfield Zamir had recommended.

Irina shivered and clenched her hands together as she remembered the night of the jewelry. Looking into his eyes, she felt some other part of her body clench and spoke up quickly to distract herself and him, because they were not going to use that tiny bathroom with everyone else a few feet away. Because, damn it, he was too big and she was too loud. “Be quiet, Julian.”

“Weren’t you going to tell the story of when I was born?” Sydney asked loudly. Weiss and Dixon looked at each other and smiled. Vaughn and Sark rolled their eyes and catching each other, both grimaced. “Mom? Dad?” Sydney prompted, watching them as she had on another journey with them. She touched her temple as she remembered another ride in a train and an argument, but wait, there was some other ride and her mother going ballistic about something while her father sat there with a smug smile. She shook her head to clear it. Her memories were less important than what was before her. “The story. How did I end up being born in West Virginia?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “We were on a road trip.”

“Oooh, good, a road trip story!” Weiss put his hands on his knees and settled in. “Go on, Dad, tell us a story to pass the time. I’m bored, remember?”

Dixon rolled his eyes. Vaughn looked pained. Weiss leaned over and asked, “Do you need to go number two? Because you look like you do.” What the hell was Jack waiting for? Why wasn’t he handling Mike? But then again, why was this Jack’s responsibility?

“No, I do not need to---” Vaughn rubbed his forehead. “Why don’t you pull out your deck of cards and amaze us with yet another card trick from that book you checked out of the library?” Without waiting for an answer, Vaughn vaulted to his feet and stalked over to the mound of baggage in the middle of the plane and sat down, his back to it.

“Why don’t you go to the library and take out a book on dealing with change?” Weiss suggested impatiently. “I think Dr. Seuss or somebody wrote a book about moving cheese or something.”

“That’s it!” Jack slammed his hand down on the plane floor. “Do not make me stop the plane.”

“But---” Vaughn, Sark, Weiss and Sydney all protested.

“But nothing! If I have to turn this plane around and head back to California, then you will all live to regret it. Is. That. Clear?” Jack spat out.

Dixon bit the inside of his cheek and wished he’d brought along a videorecorder unit. Irina pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her forehead on them, wrapped her arms around her legs and bit her lip. She would not burst out laughing. She would not. Perhaps now he might not resent her for not agreeing to have more children. Although it would probably be wise not to bring that up. Then again, that was probably a conversation they needed to have. Preferably with Judy’s help.

“I asked a question. Did I make myself clear?” Jack repeated.

“Yes, Daddy,” Sydney mumbled. When her father repeated a question, she was in trouble. That much she remembered.

“As Baccarat crystal,” Sark clipped out.

“Yup,” Weiss agreed, stretching his legs out.

Vaughn nodded silently.

Jack looked around and nodded at each of the young people in turn. “Good. We all have to get along as best we can because in case it has escaped your notice, we are on a mission to rescue my best friend, a fellow agent---”

“And one of the best...human beings I’ve ever known,” Irina added quietly.

“Yes. We cannot implode amongst ourselves and achieve success, so a modicum of self control would be--” Jack bit his words off. “Vaughn... Michael. I know I owe you a conversation and I will give it to you. When you’re calmer. Is that acceptable?”

Vaughn swallowed. Looking down at his hands, he nodded again.

“Well, if these unprofessional...hissy fits are over. Then tell us the story, Jack,” Sark suggested. “Since it’s about Sydney, it should keep her quiet and enthralled until it’s complete.”

“You know...Irina brought along a portable dvd player for these dvds. Why don’t we all relax---” Jack tried.

“Oh, I doubt any movie could compete with a story from the Bristows’ past,” Sark said, smiling smugly. “I’m dying to hear the story of the birth of the princess.”

“And actually, Dad, so am I.”

“Well, then that’s settled,” Irina decided. If Sydney made a direct appeal to her father, she would get what she wanted. She looked over at Jack, who was staring fixedly at Vaughn. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to solve this problem. Finally, he nodded and turned back to the waiting group.

In a louder than normal voice, Jack began, “It was the road trip from hell.”

“It began in New York. Your father had a meeting there and I finagled it so that I could tag along--”

“Yeah, because you’re the tag along type,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes. “Especially when you’re eight months pregnant. You just faded into the wallpaper.”

“Are you saying I was fat?”

“No. I was making a comment on your personality, which during your pregnancy was...” Jack decided to shut up.

“Women naturally can become...needy during pregnancy,” Dixon offered. “Diane...” He came to an abrupt stop and leveled a glare at Sark.

“Jack...” Weiss prompted. If anyone asked his opinion, which no one was, he thought that maybe they should all grab hockey sticks and play the hockey game from hell and get this all over with.

Jack nodded. “As I said. Road trip from hell. The seat wasn’t comfortable. We had to stop to buy a pillow.”

“It was too hard on my rear end.”

“She was thirsty. All the time. We had to stop to buy drinks -- cold ones -- “

“I was thirsty.”

“Then, of course, we had to stop every fifteen minutes for a bathroom break.”

“It wasn’t every fifteen minutes. You exaggerate.”

“I do not. That was how---”

“New Jersey happened,” Irina smiled. “I remember.”

Sydney stared from her mother to her father. She forced herself not to touch her temple as she remembered. “You two... You always...went on like this. When we were in Kashmir or on the way there and you were arguing, it was just a more heated version of...”

“Yes,” Irina said softly. “We always did. Even on that road trip.”

“Honey...” Jack said with a nervous glance over at his wife, who had beads of sweat on her upper lip. “Laura?” She said nothing and just closed her eyes. “Honey!”

“I...” Laura panted slightly. “I think the baby is coming.”

“You think the baby is coming,” Jack repeated. “Okay.” He would humor her. The baby most certainly was not coming. They were a continent away from home and a few weeks away from her due date. The baby was not coming. Laura was mistaken. Laura had not been as swift on the uptake as usual lately. The doctor had said that might happen near the end when everything in her body was concentrating on the new life within, so he had to be patient. He could do that. Helpful-

“You thought you were being helpful?” Irina scoffed.

“Yes, I did!” Jack protested. “I wasn’t trying to be an--”

“Idiot?” Irina smiled. Jack smiled back and Sydney suddenly realized that the word must be an endearment of some kind. A twisted one, but nonetheless.

Sydney prompted, “Mom? The story?”

“Well, yeah, in a few weeks,” Jack reminded her. He glanced over again, seeing the faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. “Maybe it’s just false labor.”

“No.”

“But--”

“Jack. Listen. To. Me. This week. As in today.”

“No.” Jack shook his head and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Your due date is not for--”

“Jack. Listen to me. Screw the due date.” She almost smiled at the irony of that comment. “The baby is coming. And we’re quite a few miles from the nearest town--”

“We’re a continent away from home--”

“And I suppose that’s my fault!” Laura stopped just short of shrieking at him.

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s not!”

“This road trip across the whole damn country was your idea!” Jack sniped, fearing his own forehead grow damp with anxiety. They were miles from anywhere.

“Are you blaming this on me?” Laura snarled, clenching her hand on the door handle as another contraction, surely too soon, rolled over her like some chain tightening across her belly.

“It WAS your idea!”

“Why did you do that, Mom?” Sydney asked, sensing another story.

“I’ll tell you another time, in private,” Irina promised, running her hand down her husband’s thigh and squeezing the knee in a promise to him too. If he hadn’t figured it out already. “Go on, Jack.”

“And I suppose it’s my fault that I’m pregnant, too!” Laura snapped back, relaxing as the contraction ebbed away. Focus on something she told herself. Argue with Jack. That was always good for distraction.

“I...” Jack bit his lip and looked out the window. “Of course not. It’s all my fault. Of course.”

“I’m glad you realize it.”

“Oh, I realize---”

“Realize something else. We need to hurry. So do you think you could floor it?” Damn it! Men were so stupid! And she was having enough trouble not speaking in Russian right now, so would you please focus, Jack Bristow! Use those damn field skills for which you’re so famous and find me a damn hospital? NOW!

“May I remind you that this driving trip across the country while you were eight months pregnant was your idea?”

“May I remind you that if you don’t put your damn foot on the damn pedal you’ll be delivering our baby all by your damn self?”

“The baby’s not going to come that soon,” Jack said, saying a prayer under his breath that his words would be true.

“How do you know? Are you the patron saint of women in labor or---”

Jack’s eyes widened. Wow, she was a bitch. He could hardly wait for--

“What did you say?” Laura slapped his right arm.

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

“You looked...something. You had a look on your face--”

“I cannot be found guilty based upon the look on my face---” Jack protested.

“Yes, you can!” Laura pointed a finger at him, chagrined to see that her hand shook slightly. She closed her hand into a fist.

Dixon laughed quietly. “A husband of a woman in labor is guilty of every crime, real or imagined.”

Irina nodded absently as she remembered that pell-mell race through the hills of West Virginia, both of them anxiety-ridden. Jack had just desperately wanted to find a hospital. She...

She had clenched her fist into such a tight ball that she had cut the palm of her skin with her nails and had not realized it until the nurse had cleaned the blood away with a stinging antiseptic. Then, she had just repeated her mantra that this was the best way. This way, she would be safe. The baby would be safe. They would not find them here. And Jack would never leave her side anyway; he would keep them safe. She patted her husband’s arm. “You were...very good to me. I admit it. You tried so hard, but...I was a bitch.”

“It’s okay. You were having a baby,” Jack said softly. He touched her cheek. “Do you remember yelling at me about the flower on the wallpaper?”

“I most certainly did not yell,” Irina demurred, with a soft smile.

“Of course not.” Jack rolled his eyes and mouthed at Sydney, “Yes, she did.”

Laura bit her lip as another contraction rolled through her and smacked at Jack. “You’re in the way of my flower!”

“I’m what?” Jack blinked. He was in the way of what? There were no flowers in the room.

“Move the hell out of the way!”

The ob nurse gave Jack a gentle tug. “She’s using a flower on the wallpaper to focus, Mr. Bristow--”

“Lori---” Jack said, peering at her name badge. “Maybe we could mention to her that it might be a wise idea to pick a focus point that’s less likely to be obstructed--”

“That would not be a wise or appreciated notion,” Lori told him, hiding a smile. First child, obviously.

“This Lamaze stuff is crap!” Laura said between pants. “Jack, do something.”

Jack stared at her incredulously and felt a small shiver of anxiety. She never asked for help. Immediately, he held out his hand and hid his wince as Laura grabbed onto it. He would avoid making any appropriate comparisons to a leech. Or a lobster. “Honey...” Jack whispered. “You can do this. Just roll with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like...I think, since I don’t know of course what you feel like right now,” Jack amended quickly. “And I’m sure I’ve never felt anything as horrible as what you’re feeling and handling so well...”

“Good save, Jack,” Dixon smiled.

“I was sweating bullets,” Jack admitted. “To say nothing of feeling the bones in my hand begin to snap.”

“It was just a hairline fracture!” Irina protested. “Nothing to whine about.”

“I know you’ve never felt anything this bad, Jack. So what’s your point?” Laura squeezed Jack’s hand once again. Why couldn’t she handle this? But she knew, she was still afraid of them.

With his free hand, Jack wiped a damp cloth across his wife’s forehead. He suggested softly, “If you’ve ever hurt yourself, you know that the pain will increase, then crest and then decrease, right? Just like when you, say, bang your funny bone?”

Laura nodded. Jack was right. These contractions were pain just like any other pain she’d dealt with in the field. “You’re correct. Just deal with the one pain, one at a time. Then rest and then get ready for the next one. I just have to get through....” She felt her eyes go round and clamped down on Jack’s hand, not seeing his grimace but only seeing the love in his face. “I just need to get through this one.”

“Only you weren’t thinking of your funny bone, were you?” Vaughn asked. “You were thinking of wounds you’d suffered in the line of duty?”

“Yes,” Irina said firmly. “I was. I had so firmly dissociated one side of my life from the other, that I couldn’t see that the techniques I’d learned to deal with professional injuries were exactly what I needed to handle the most personal pain...” She stopped and thought of Dave’s portfolio suddenly. “Physical personal pain. Jack was right. He knew. You just have to--”

“Roll with it,” Jack said softly, staring at Vaughn. “Accept it, acknowledge it, find a way to handle it and then roll with it or get out of the way.”

“Are you going to give me some bulls*** philosophy that pain makes you stronger?” Vaughn asked.

“No. That would be a lie, sometimes, anyway. Sometimes pain doesn’t make you stronger. But it does build character even then. Because sometimes it teaches us our limits. Everyone has limits. Me.” Jack touched his chest. Nodding at Vaughn. “And you.”

Sydney swallowed. Her father was telling Vaughn and everyone else that he had to understand he had a choice before him. “Daddy...” She asked hesitantly, unsure if verbalizing her thought was helpful or not, but... Vaughn had a long-held tendency to avoid the problem that now sat a few feet away from him. This could not go on. “Are you saying you have a choice?”

“I’m saying that... The choice is to understand when the pain is unendurable and when it’s something you can overcome or get through or leave behind.”

“Choices!” Vaughn muttered. “What kind of choice...” He looked from Irina to Sydney and then back to Irina again. He leaned back against the crate behind him, looking backward and wincing when he saw that he leaned against the one that held the Barbies. That pregnant Barbie seemed...sick to him. How had she gotten pregnant when Ken didn’t have the equipment...And what did he lack that would enable him to find a way to roll with this horrifying development in his life? How could he have Sydney when Irina was...here?

When Vaughn said nothing more, but seemed to grow thoughtful, Jack nodded and nudged Irina. “Go on.”

Yasmina’s youngest daughter tugged on her skirts as she tended the family’s dinner over an open fire. “Yes?” She smiled down at her baby. The last one. Healthy too, so far. Precious. She touched the little one’s hair.

“Daoud...” The little girl pointed to the fire and spoke in slow, heavily-accented English as her mother encouraged them all to do. “Hot as that.” She took her turn at the pot when her mother sped away into the tent.

“Daoud...” Yasmina spoke sharply, trying to reach him, as he thrashed around on the pallet, raising dust. “Stop it. You fight the wrong enemy.”

“What...” Dave rolled his head back and forth.

“You waste energy fighting the pain.”

“How...” Dave blinked up at her, seeing only an oval face and dark hair. “Laura?”

“Laura?” Yasmina repeated in her careful, halting English. “Who is Laura? I have not heard this name before.”
“Laura...Jack’s...wife...”

“You said her name was Irina.” Yasmina grabbed for the skin of cooler water from the well her oldest daughter brought in.

“Two names. Two people in one...” Dave sighed as the cool water sluiced down his chest. Then he tensed, his once powerful body reduced to bones and sinewy muscles that convulsed involuntarily with pain and then with his determination to fight it even as the greyness beckoned to him.

“Daoud!” Yasmina pinched his ear, trying to draw him back from whatever darkness he had been falling into. “Fight the darkness, not the pain. Just let the pain happen, but think about something else.”

“Something...” Dave took a shallow breath. “Just in case...”

“Yes?” Yasmina leaned forward.

“Don’t forget....the story.”

“Jack...” Irina touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I just want this to be over with,” Jack said between tight lips. “I want to be on the ground and moving.”

“We will be as soon as possible,” Irina reassured him. And herself. If Dave did not make it, she would never forgive herself. “Let me finish the story, okay?” When Jack nodded, Irina continued.

“Do you want a boy or girl?” The nurse asked later, as she helped support Laura in her pushing.

“He wants a girl--” Laura hissed out.

“I could answer for myself, honey,” Jack said placatingly.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice.” Laura pressed down on his hand as she pushed once again. How long did she have to push?

“I...” Jack shut his mouth, finally, belatedly realizing that his role was to lend a hand to hold and a scapegoat when necessary. But how long could she squeeze his hand like that?

“He wants a girl to spoil rotten,” Laura finished as she took a long breath between pushing. “He’s going to put her on a pedestal and make her into a princess...”

The nurse nodded. “There are those who might think every little girl needs a daddy like that.”

“She’ll grow up to be a spoiled brat!” Laura protested.

“And that is a prophecy proven far more true than anything in Rambaldi,” Sark quipped. “Ow!” he exclaimed a moment later when Sydney elbowed him in the ribs. “Irina, can we draw a line down the middle so that she doesn’t cross onto my side of the seat?”
“Mom, can we gag him?” Sydney asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Can you both just stop it!” Weiss snapped. “You’d think you two were brother and sister...Wait, he’s not---”

“No,” Irina said firmly. “Although...” She looked down at her hands. “I think Dave set me up. I think he wanted me to see in Sark the little boy I wanted---” She glanced up sharply as she heard Sydney’s gasp. “Sweetheart, look at me. I...wanted a little boy because I wanted to see your father as a little boy,” Irina said softly. Seeing the mulish look forming on her daughter’s face, Irina shook her head. “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I loved you with as much of my heart as I was capable of giving. I just...” She stopped, unsure of how to explain it.

“I just wanted a little girl so that I could, in some ways, see your mother as little girl,” Jack interjected. “I...loved her so much I wished I had always known her, so seeing her in a daughter was ...like seeing a deep wish fulfilled.”

“Oh, I see,” Sydney said quietly. “ No, I don’t.”

Dixon spoke up for the first time. “It’s like this, Syd. Before the baby is born and you know him or her, the baby is a reflection of your love for your spouse, so you naturally want to see your spouse in the baby you’ve created---”

“Yes!” Irina smiled. “My words were inadequate, but yes. And then the baby is born--”

“Passive voice?” Jack smiled. “Passive voice for something that active?”

“Well, in some ways you’re just along for the ride as your body takes over,” Irina shrugged. “But the baby is born and they hand her to you and.... You look into that little face...”

“Into the blue eyes looking up at you,” Jack said huskily, hesitantly touching his daughter’s face. “And you..” He cleared his throat. “You just fall in love with your child. The eyes looking up at you.”

“The ring.” Sydney patted her father’s hand and closed her eyes as his fingers slowly closed around her palm.

“Yes,” Irina said, staring down at her ringless fingers. “I don’t know what Jack was thinking when he gave me that rock. He wanted more children and if he’d kept giving me rings...”

“You wanted more children?” Sydney asked quietly.

“Yes.” Jack answered, then said no more. He was certainly not going to have that conversation now, which was... he looked down at his watch. Couldn’t this damn plane move any faster? Stay alive, Dave, damn it. Just hold on, he pleaded silently.

Vaughn shot Jack a careful look. “I want a hockey team of boys,” he offered. “I feel permanently scarred by that foray into the aisle of pink.”

Weiss began laughing. “You know what that means - you’re going to get all girls.”

“How about you, Eric?” Dixon asked. “What do you want, boys or girls or both?”

“Don’t care,” Eric said cheerfully. “The only skill I’d want to pass on is---”

“Passing gas? Eating?” Vaughn asked, then grunted when Weiss punched his arm.

“Magic, you fool. And that’s completely gender-free.”
Sydney glared at Vaughn. “As is hockey, these days, you male chauvinist pig.”

“I just don’t know that I think girls should play such a rough sport,” Vaughn offered.

“Because childbirth is all pink tights and tutus?” Jack laughed.

Irina smiled. “At the end, even I was shocked...”

“After she’d broken my hand by squeezing it too hard.”

“It was just a hairline fracture.” If she said it often enough, Irina thought, she’d stop feeling guilty about it.

“It was my left hand!”

“Oh, get over it. Men are such babies,” Irina said, leaning forward toward Sydney. “In case you didn’t know it.”

“I believe I’m aware of that. But.. So what happened at the end?"

Jack grinned, feeling a measure of tension dissolve as he remembered. “She screamed.”

“No way,” Sydney said, shaking her head.

“I find that notion extraordinarily difficult to believe,” Sark agreed. “Irina Derevko screamed?”

“Pain can...surprise you. It surprised me. The scream was involuntary. One thing about childbirth, sweetheart...” Irina smiled at her daughter as she warned her, “It totally takes over your body. You’re really just along for the ride in some ways. And it really hurt. You had a big head--” Irina smiled as her daughter gave her a dirty look. This moment...the dirty look was normal. A normal family.

Well, except for the fact that they were telling this story in the cargo hold of a CIA plane filled with agents, one of which might marry her daughter but for the small obstacle of the fact that she had killed his father. And then there was Julian, her non-son. And the fact that they were enroute to find a long-lost friend who had lost twenty years of his life due to betrayal upon betrayal and who might hate her forever for it. She blinked away her concern and stared at her watch. “It hurt, I admit it,” Irina said finally.

“I see. Extra large princess tiara, then?” Sark asked.

“ Broad shoulders,” Sydney said, touching her shoulders.

Jack laughed. “So... she screamed. Once. That was when she broke my hand, although neither of us realized it at the time. Then she looked at me and apologized for screaming. I was staring at her, incredulous that she would apologize and---”

“He put his hand on my cheek and gave me this look. So much love and concern. As if he would take the pain away if he could. No one had ever... I remember,” Irina said, smiling at him. “So sweet.”

“Well.” Jack looked down, then back up. “Well, anyway, I wanted to tell her to go ahead and scream, because as far as I was concerned, she should be screaming the damn place down. But before I could open my mouth, this idiot resident says...”

“‘Mrs. Bristow, it might be more productive if you would channel the energy for screaming into pushing. More effective, ma’am.’” Irina scowled. “What an idiot. I mean, a real idiot. Not...” She reached out and touched her husband’s chin.

“What did you do?” Weiss asked.
“Yes, Mom. You must have killed him.”

“I wasn’t in a position to do anything with your head coming out of me any moment, Sydney.”

“Too much information,” Weiss groaned, closing his eyes.

Irina shrugged. Men were such wimps about childbirth. She could still see Dave’s face turn green as Jack related -- in excruciating and unnecessary detail -- the story of Sydney’s birth. Honestly, if she’d bled as much as Jack had said, she would have been dead. How much blood had Dave lost when Sloane shot him? Or when they cut off his finger to prove to Jack that Dave was dead? Or when they somehow convinced him to run Project Christmas? How much blood? How many more tears would be shed? Irina looked down at her watch and said quickly, “So... I used the only weapon I still possessed. My---”

“Her mouth. Before I could deck that idiot, she said....”

“You try and push a bowling ball out of your ass and see if you don’t scream.”

Weiss was the first one to laugh. Then one by one, they all began to laugh together until finally even Vaughn’s mouth quirked upward and he gave a reluctant chuckle. Jack nudged his wife as everyone else enjoyed the release of tension. Finally. Finally, Vaughn looked less like a frozen wrinkle in time and might be more amenable to hearing what needed to be said. “Honey, now would be a good time...”

“I...It was...” Irina said softly, not wanting to see the need. “I was just doing my duty and...”

“Mom...” Sydney whispered, finally realizing what her father wanted her mother to do. “Remember? The roof? Just do it and get it over with. You know that’s the only way to start.”

Irina nodded. “I suppose...” I suppose if I want to create a relationship with the man my daughter so unfortunately loves, I need to sacrifice my pride.

“And don’t say that Dad or I told you to apologize,” Sydney said with a small smile as she remembered that long-ago swat on her butt and a firmly-worded set of instructions.

“Chickie.” Jack cleared his throat.

“Don’t---”

“Do what you need to do and I won’t call you chickie.”

“I’m not some child---” Irina stopped, knowing she was being as stubborn as Sydney had been so long ago. Looking over at Agent Vaughn in the dim greyness of the plane’s cargo hold as he leaned against the crates in the center, she firmed her lips and stood up. Somehow she had a feeling she’d rather go through childbirth again than have this conversation. But like childbirth, some moments in life had to be endured. “Agent Vaughn? Might I have a word with you?”

TBC at Chapter 2006: Part 4