A/N: Thank you for your kind comments, they are highly appreciated.
Chapter 11
One Week Later, Los Angeles, Jack Bristow’s Residence
Broad daylight filled the apartment that was empty of any living soul. The clock above the mantelpiece showed that the time was 11.50 a.m. For hours now the apartment was void of any sounds, but that suddenly changed as a small noise came from the front door.
Slowly the front door lock was carefully opened. A key wasn’t used, but the newcomer made sure that the lock didn’t show any markings of a break in. Cautiously the intruder crept into the apartment although it was clear that there was no one beside them there.
After carefully looking around the apartment the intruder walked to the coffee table in the living room. A photo album was pulled out of their back bag and set on the table. A minute later a small note was set upon to album.
Making sure that nothing else than the album and the note was left of the visit, the intruder exited the apartment and disappeared into the Los Angeles sun.
Vaughn’s apartment, hours later
“I like when you cook.” Strong arms snaked around Sydney’s waist who was standing behind a stove. Sydney stopped stirring the pasta in the pot and turned around in his arms to face him.
“You won’t say that when you taste the food.” She tipped her head slightly to the side.
Vaughn laughed silently. “Syd, are you saying that you can disable ten different types of explosives, but you can’t make pasta?”
“More than twenty as a matter of fact, and no, I didn’t say I can’t cook, I’m saying that most of the time, my cooking ends in the trash bin.” Sydney entwined her fingers behind Vaughn’s neck.
“I believe in your cooking skills.” Vaughn smiled.
“Well, you are the only one.” She shook her head slightly as the smile on her face widened.
“Hey, hey! Cool it, guys.” Weiss entered the kitchen with Will walking a few feet behind him.
“I knew that giving you the key was a mistake.” Vaughn grumbled, as he and Sydney pulled apart.
“You weren’t answering the door.” Weiss shrugged innocently.
“I didn’t hear the doorbell.” Vaughn shot back without any malice.
“That’s because he knocked like once and then pulled out his key.” Will commented smirking at the two friends’ antics as he carefully sat down on the of the kitchen counter stools.
“I was worried that the two of you would forget the food as soon as you have time for yourselves. So I decided to save the pasta.” Weiss explained and then pulled open the fridge door. “Want a drink?” He held up a beer bottle.
“You’re offering me my own beer.” Vaughn pointed out.
“And your point being?” Weiss raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind. Give me a beer.” He shook his head. “I need to change my locks.” He whispered so only Sydney could hear. She bit back a laugh and told him quietly to be nice.
“What did the doctor say, Will?” Sydney asked her friend as she turned back to the burning simmers.
“He said that my recovery is remarkable and that I’m healing quite nicely. My physical therapy is starting next week, but I won’t be able to return to work anytime soon.” He explained. “Since I’m not coming to work any time soon, tell me the inner-office gossip.” He leaned conspiratorially forward.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell. But Kendall is getting more and more unbearable by the day.” Weiss said after taking a swig from his beer.
“Why?” Will asked.
“Jack is in charge and will be until Sloane, Sark and Derevko are captured. And Kendall is not pleased with that.” Sydney pursed her lips when she heard Weiss mention her mother but no other visible signs were seen that she was still bothered by her mother’s status on the CIA’s Most Wanted List.
“And he snaps at everyone who gets near him.” Vaughn piped up. “He nearly took Marshall’s head off when he asked him a minor detail of a mission.”
“I felt sorry for the poor guy, he still doesn’t understand who is the boss.” Weiss shrugged. “Frankly neither do I.”
“But it seems like Marshall and Carrie are developing something.” Sydney turned around with a slight smile.
“Really?” Will raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, they have left work together for the last week. And I think I heard Marshall mentioning something about introducing her to his mother.” She moved to take the plates out of the cupboard.
“Poor woman.” Weiss commented.
“I think they’re cute together. She seems to like him sincerely.” She scowled slightly at Weiss, but the scowl soon turned into a smile.
“Good for Marshall.” Will raised his bottle in honour of the man, as did Weiss and Vaughn.
“Ok, guys, food’s ready. I’ll bring the food, go to the table.” She ushered them out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the dining table was set. Weiss and Will followed the given orders as Sydney puttered around the kitchen taking out several serving plates.
Seeing that Vaughn was still in the kitchen observing her, she turned around. Her intentions to scold him disappeared when she saw him smile widely. “What?” She asked bemused.
“It’s nice.” He answered shortly, his smile seemingly fixed on his face.
“What is nice?” Sydney was lightly annoyed for having to repeat herself.
“You knowing where everything is in my kitchen. And the rest of the apartment.” He walked to her.
“I know where everything is because I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks.” Sydney stated as-a-matter-of-factly.
“I like it.” Vaughn leaned down for a quick kiss.
“Mr. Vaughn, are insinuating that certain activities due to my living in this apartment are enjoyable to you?” Sydney asked with a cheeky smile that showed off her dimples.
“That too, but I was more interested in asking if you’d like to move in with me.” He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Move in with you?” Sydney asked a bit confused.
“Well, we spend every awake moments at work and away from work together. And you don’t seem too anxious to move back to your old apartment either. So I was wondering if you’d like to move in permanently.” Vaughn looked deeply in Sydney’s eyes.
“Seriously?” She refrained herself from smiling.
“Yes.” He answered. “Besides, you have been reorganizing my apartment during those two weeks.”
Sydney swatted his shoulder playfully. “That’s because you think clothes splayed over the bedroom floor is considered a horizontal closet.”
“That’s my belief and I refuse to let it go.” Vaughn settled his hands on her waist and pulled her closer.
“We’ll see about that.” Sydney shook her head but made no indication that she wasn’t happy with their proximity in the small kitchen.
“So, what do you think? You, me, living together?” Vaughn nudged her slightly.
She couldn’t keep the smile off her face any longer and nodded her head vigorously. “I think it’s a great plan if you’re absolutely sure about it.” She seemed a bit doubtful despite her excitement.
“I wouldn’t ask you if I weren’t a hundred percent positive about it.”
“Then I think I would love to move in with you, Michael.” Sydney stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
“Hey, you called me Michael.” Vaughn said smilingly after she pulled back and rested her forehead against his.
“Yeah, I need to practise that. Don’t expect it to absolute from now on, but I can’t call you Vaughn forever.” Sydney bumped her nose against his.
“Forever?” He asked.
“Unless you have other plans.” She said without conviction.
“Not in a million years.” Vaughn leaned down to kiss her again but a mock-angry Weiss clearing his voice interrupted the kiss.
“I realize that I encouraged you two to date and all, but seriously if you keep going this way then you’ll starve to death very soon.” He lectured.
Sydney and Vaughn laughed a little and then pulled apart. Taking the dishes they moved from the kitchen to the living room with smile plastered on both of their faces.
~~
The next day, England
Grey clouds hid the blue sky and the bright sun from the people. It wasn’t raining but it seemed that it might at any minute.
A woman was standing in front of a double gravesite. Her posture was too rigid and her jaw was too harshly set for her to be at ease. Her long dark brown hair was pulled into a tight French braid and the gloomy weather did nothing to soften her light skin tone.
Slowly she kneeled in front of the tombstone and her fingers traced the words on it. Then she set two bouquets of flowers on the grave as she looked sadly at the names engraved there.
“I think of you every day. It doesn’t make any difference where I am or what I’m doing. You’re always in my heart and thoughts.” Closing her eyes she whispered. “I miss you.”
With that she stood up and walked away with her head down. Finally exiting the graveyard and closing the gate behind her she saw a very familiar person leaning on a car across the road looking seriously at her. Alex stopped for a minute, but when her mother stood up straight and started to say something, Alex shook her head and walked quickly to her, the last few steps rushed and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, closing her eyes as she refused to cry.
“You’re all here?” Alex asked as she still held her mother in a vice grip.
“Of course.” It was the only thing Elena said as nothing more was needed.
After a few minutes Alex sat in the passenger seat of the car as her mother started the car steering it away from the curb.
The grave, which had two bouquets of beautiful roses, was yet again left alone in the middle of hundreds of similar ones. But the names on it differenced it from all the others as they represented beloved souls. Christopher Matthews and Chloe Madeline Matthews. A young man whose life ended too soon and a little girl who never lived.
~~
Los Angeles
Jack walked through his front door and dropped his keys on the table in the hall. Sighing he took off his jacket and loosened his tie. That movement made no difference to his edginess that had built up during the day.
Without turning on the lights in the living room he headed for the bedroom where he placed his suitcase and jacket.
Heading to his study he loosened his tie and sat down in his armchair, pulling out a bottle of highly expensive whisky out of the bottom drawer of his desk. A-fifty-year-old whisky was perfect for mulling over his train-wreck of a life.
Jack really wasn’t happy about his newly acquired position as the head of the Joint Task Force. Not only was Kendall prominently hot on his heels, but it didn’t seem that he’d be relieved of the title anytime soon as Sloane, Sark nor Irina had taken any further actions that would help their capture.
Sloane and Sark seemed to have struck a deal and were once again partners. Neither had made any appearances for the past week and Jack was worried that Sloane was planning something that would entail a disaster. He had known the man for thirty years and every time Sloane would keep a low profile it would be like the quiet before the storm. It unsettled him and hoped they would catch him before he could endanger the world.
The other person completely bemusing him was Irina. Their sudden meeting a week ago had been surprising. Her statement that she was no longer working with Sloane made sense, but Jack was still far from believing it. The woman wasn’t known for telling the truth.
He had figured that by this time Irina’s network had to be fully active again, if it even went inactive during Irina’s imprisonment. The names, locations and information she had given to the CIA during her debriefs were probably secondary in importance to her. It had made no sense to Jack, when she had literally walked through the Central Intelligence Agency’s front doors, that Irina would openly give out the information that held her operation together. Now he was sure that her organization was as strong as and as hidden as it was before. He had to admit that she was a master planner.
But their encounter had genuinely seemed to surprise Irina and that bemused him. If it hadn’t been Irina to set up both of them being there together, who had? Why was it important to have them both there to see a middleman being killed? Was it a warning for them?
Jack suddenly stopped his train of thought and sat up straight. He had come across an insane idea, but it was persistent enough for him to take him laptop and the disk, which held the all the information from the night in Paris.
He played the tape that recorded the shooting and watched as Irina made her way to the alley, greet the man and then suddenly dash down the alley after the man crumpled to the ground. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary but still something in the back of his mind told him to keep looking. Watching the tape play for the fifth man, he finally understood what he had missed. The second before Davids was killed Irina had moved slightly to the side.
Right away from the bullet’s trajectory.
It dawned on him that the bullet wasn’t meant for the man but Irina. Somebody had tried to kill her instead, and that somebody had wanted Jack to see it. For a moment worry crept up Jack’s spine but he refused to admit it because being concerned for her well-being wasn’t something he should be doing. But yet a small part of him hoped that whoever wanted Irina dead hadn’t succeeded.
Silently berating himself he realized that once again when Irina was concerned problems arose. That had been like that ever since they met and had continued for over thirty years.
Flashback
Los Angeles, 1971
Jack cursed silently for the fifth time as he was stuck behind another red light. He was late to his class, again. He gave up making up a cover story because whatever it was his lector wouldn’t believe him anyway.
For the last few years he was working for the Central Intelligence Agency. Up until this far, his job at the CIA was strictly behind a desk, for he was not field rated, but three days ago it had changed. He had been sent on a field mission with a senior agent whose job was to break into a manor in Venice where a party was held. A listening device was supposed to be placed in the host’s den, because he was suspected in illegal arms dealing through America. Jack was given orders to observe the party and to alert the agent if something went wrong.
Everything had gone fine until the older agent had been discovered. Jack had to make a quick decision and he disobeyed the orders he had been given. He had left his post and entered the manor the party had been held at. He had found the senior agent being brutally interrogated. Despite him being a field agent he still mastered quite a few fighting techniques, and he had swiftly knocked out the interrogators and freed the agent. They had escaped with minor difficulties and reached their extraction point.
Jack had expected to be reprimanded or even fired but what he hadn’t seen coming was that the senior agent he had rescued had defended Jack’s actions and now the young desk-rated agent was told that he had a series of tests ahead that could make him a field agent. It was a tremendous honour but then again it was very dangerous. Still, serving his country was something he had always wanted to do and now he had a chance to do that in ways he hadn’t thought to be possible.
Finally the red light turned to green and he sped off, probably breaking a few laws. He figured that from the honking horns he heard. He slowed a bit down, for a man who wanted to serve his country shouldn’t cause an accident of the freeway. A few hundred yards ahead he saw a car on the curb. Jack decided that some other driver could help the one in trouble but when he saw a mass of long dark brown hair tangled in the wind as the woman tried to understand what was wrong with the car, he decided to stop. To hell with his lector, he was already too late.
Stopping the car, he got out and started walking towards the woman as cars sped by. Jack saw the woman raise the hood of the car and lean nearer. From what he could see, he observed that the woman was in her early twenties maybe, tall, slim and had waves of dark tresses. He could make out a faint grumble ‘Everything goes wrong in America!’, but he wasn’t sure.
Stepping up to the woman he asked. “Can I help you, Miss?”
The woman hadn’t obviously heard him near as she bolted upright from her position leaning under the hood of the car, and promptly hit her head.
“felgercarb!” She exclaimed and pressed down on the spot where she had hit her head.
“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Jack apologized frantically.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” The woman was still holding her head, but now she turned to look at him for the first time.
Jack was dumbstruck as he looked at the woman before him. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Her deep brown eyes were fascinating and it seemed they pierced him as she looked at him. The way she held herself was regal, to say at least, even though she was still clutching her head with one hand. She looked somewhat exotic and he was instantly bewitched.
The young woman’s eyes widened as she looked at the driver who had stopped. She forgot to breathe for one moment and it seemed to Jack that she tensed for a few moments.
“Are you sure?” Jack was still worried that he had caused the woman some bodily injuries.
“Absolutely.” She smiled disarmingly as she came out of her stance. Pulling her hand away from her head and holding it out for inspection she spoke. “No blood or anything.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jack seemed slightly flustered.
“Oh, you didn’t. I just didn’t hear you. It takes a lot more to scare me.” She on the other hand seemed completely composed.
“I’m Jack by the way. Jack Bristow.” He remembered to introduce himself.
“Laura,” She smiled. “Laura Jefferson.”
“You have problems with the car?” Jack asked turning to the tons of metal people call a car.
“Yeah, and I can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong.” Irina turned to the car. Jack didn’t comment on the woman’s common knowledge of engines, as it probably wouldn’t be welcomed, and turned to the car as well.
End of Flashback
Jack had never made it to class that day, but he did get a phone number on a napkin and encouragement to call. Back then he had thought himself to be the luckiest man on the planet.
Over the years he had never quite figured out whether their first meeting was unplanned or set up. He had spent a number of restless nights pondering over it, but then decided that for the sake of his sanity he should stop.
Jack put the tumbler back to its original place, slightly emptier than it was before, and walked out of the den, turning off the light on his way. He headed towards his bedroom, but something nagged in the back of his mind. Turning around and walking to the living room, he scanned it with his eyes. He almost berated himself for paranoia and turned on his heels, but he saw something out of place on his coffee table.
Drawing his gun from its holster he moved to the kitchen. Silently he berated himself for not being alert before. He figured that whoever was in his apartment wasn’t there anymore, because if they were, he would probably be dead a long time ago. Finally making sure that there was no one in his apartment beside himself, he swiped the apartment for bugs, but found none, which didn’t make sense.
Frowning, he made his way around the furniture and to the aforementioned table and examined the offending object. It seemed like an antique photo album, probably very expensive too. Jack carefully picked up the note and opened it. Calligraphic words adorned it.
‘One can never fully know another, but the only crime would be to stop trying.’
Puzzled by the words, he set down the note and picked up the album. On the front page he saw a black and white photograph of a small child. The words below it made him sit in shock on the recliner behind him. ‘Ирина, 1 месяц’
England
Irina looked at her niece thoughtfully as she was tending the wound on her side. Alex seemed oblivious to the rest of the world and that worried Irina.
“It seems that everything is in order. The stitches are slightly sloppy but considering that you made them yourself, I’m impressed.” Alex finished cleaning the wound and reassembled the first aid kit.
“I told you I was fine.” Irina said calmly as she pulled on a sweater.
“Who’s the one with the MD here?” Alex asked after returning from the bathroom where she had taken the kit. Seeing her aunt scowl a bit, she smiled. “You need to take out the stitches in three to five days and I suggest you use some kind of a scar tissue gel.”
“Alex…” Irina started but the younger woman didn’t stop her speech to listen.
“It prevents the excessive flesh to grow on the wound. Brilliant stuff really.” She picked up the cotton pads she used to sterilise the wound and ditched them into the trash bin in the bathroom.
“Alexandra…” Irina tried again a little louder.
“You should avoid pressure on the wound for the time being, so no insane missions in the near future.” She went on.
Irina walked to Alex and put her hands on her shoulders. “Stop compartmentalizing. You’re allowed to break down, you’re allowed to smash things and you’re allowed to admit that it hurts!” She shook the younger woman’s shoulders a bit.
Alex pulled herself away from Irina with fire in her eyes. “Everybody keep saying that to me. You, aunt Katya, my own mother, who happens to be the queen of closed up.” She said vehemently. “But I can’t!”
“Yes, you can.” Irina insisted.
“No, I can’t. You should understand why.” Alex implored Irina with her eyes to understand, which she did. Irina realized what Alex meant by not being able to break down in fear of opening a door that might never close. The door behind which memories and different emotions accompanying certain memories had been locked away safely for years.
Neatly tucking away everything that hurts is much easier than dealing with your feelings. Shutting that part of yourself off seems like the only way to stay functional, but in reality it was the only way that pushes you towards the point of no return. Irina tethered on that edge and nearly crossed that if there wasn’t Katya to make her face up to her loss. And now Irina saw that Alex was on the exact same spot without realizing it herself.
“I know it’s difficult, but I also know if you don’t deal with your emotions, you’ll lose yourself and your ability to feel.” Irina saw that the younger woman was desperately trying to stay composed.
“You’re speaking in nice metaphors.” Alex responded sarcastically.
“I’m speaking from experience.” Irina shot back emotionlessly.
“When did you break down?” The question was a rhetorical one and Alex didn’t expect an answer.
“You want the first, the tenth or the hundredth time? Because I know every date and time.”
Alex took a step back so her back met the wall and sank down to the floor. She pulled her knees up resting her elbows on them. Her expression was tired but still no tears were seen.
Slowly Irina knelt down before her and tucked a dark brown lock behind Alex’s ear.
“I’m sorry.” Alex said quietly as she dropped her eyes from Irina’s in shame.
The older woman softly took hold of her chin and raised Alex’s head up again and forced her to look at her. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” She spoke in hushed tones.
“I shouldn’t have compared our situations, they’re far from equal.” Irina could see that Alex was drowning in guilt.
“In some ways they are. But you truly lost them, I just walked away.”
“But not willingly.”
“No, not willingly.” Irina shook her head softly. Without warning Alex pushed herself away from the wall and enveloped Irina in a desperate crushing hug.
“Why does this family keep losing the people they love?” It wasn’t a question, but rather a sad statement.
“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” Irina said with a sigh.
TBC
Translation: ‘Ирина, 1 месяц’ – Irina, 1 month