beautifully broken

i heard this song and knew it was irina. the song is beautifully broken by gov't mule. it's like it was written for her, fits her perfectly. i had to write a fic. i've never written j/i so it's a little new, but i like it.
of course i must say none of the characters are mine; they belong to jj and comp. please read and review


she was not laura bristow. to tell the truth, she had never been laura bristow. laura was innocent and sweet. but irina was powerful and her life was smeared with blood. she had betrayed jack, betrayed the united states. jack had sworn that if he ever saw her again, he would put a bullet in her head. but that wasn’t what happened. when he saw her again, that wasn’t what happened.
he was sitting at an outdoor café in london. he was actually on a vacation. he had just finished a big assignment and the cia told him he needed a break. it wasn’t that he was out of control or over-worked. they just wanted to reward him. so they let him bathe in the accomplishment. alone. in london.
so there he was. drinking a coffee – black – and reading the paper. he glanced up from the business section for just a moment. there she was. her hair was half-secured by a silver-studded barette, the rest of her locks cascading down her shoulders. she wore a light blue halter top and a pair of jeans. she looked almost normal. her eyes were dark, black almost. men turned their heads as they walked by, admiring the creature, the almost unreal creature sitting at the table. she was so elegant. so graceful.
jack first burned with hatred. but it faded; he couldn’t. he couldn’t hate something so beautiful. his eyes traced her face, still by memory. he saw the way her hands grasped her coffee cup, the way she stared intently at the book in front of her. he saw it, as he had seen it so many times before.
she was always in peace while reading a book. always involved. but she was still always aware. still noticed if you sneaked up behind her. still noticed when her daughter giggled in another room. still noticed if she was being watched. maybe not today. maybe today she didn’t feel jack’s gaze, didn’t know to meet his stare. maybe today…

mysterious - blown in with the night
all this beauty captured in a frame
visibly shaken but never stirred - drives them insane
i see the way she plays her men - and i know i've got to know her name


a man came toward her. she looked up and smiled. stood, kissed him on the cheek. anger and hatred bubbled up once more in jack. the man sat down. he too looked almost normal. his hair was graying, his eyes an ice blue but empty; yet they seemed to lighten as he talked to irina, his hand on hers. the man was dressed impeccably, a navy blue suit and a yellow tie, striped with blue and white. the two looked like a married couple, though they wore no rings around their fingers. but jack knew, irina had the man around her finger. she always did. he was so wrapped up in her, lost in the ocean of her presence, of her beauty, of her lies.
jack had been much the same way, but that was so long ago. wasn’t it? watching her there he couldn’t remember how much time had passed, how many horrible things she had done. seeing her didn’t contain the hatred he thought, no anger, no violence; it was this burning desire, this need, to have her once more.

she's so beautifully broken - shaped by the wind
dangerously twisted - here i go again

i see the way she casts her spell - it's like drowning in moonlight
discards them when she's done - they're lost in her twilight
i watch her move from star to star and i wonder why,
why it feels so right


he watched. watched as she lied to the man, told him exactly what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. and somehow, he wished it was him sitting there, listening to her, hand on her hand. he wished it were he who would pay for her coffee, ask her about the book she was reading. jack stood, forgetting his paper, and walked over to irina’s table.
her surprise could not be hidden as he approached the table. the man looked up at him with questioning eyes.
“i just must say that i love that barette. my wife has the same one,” jack said. he was calm, collected, voice steady.
irina swallowed. even she, the almightly manipulator and deceiver, could do nothing. she couldn’t hide her emotions. she took a deep breath.
“thank you.”
the man at the table was still looking at jack quizzically. jack met his gaze. he felt like he should give him advice, tell him to leave irina because she was no good. or he felt like he should kill him, slam his head against the table for being with his woman.
instead, jack just walked away.

she's so beautifully broken - you can hardly see the flaw
especially from a distance - which is always how I fall

why do i fall for the dangerous ones - the ones that never learned to let go
and why do i lie to myself and pretend that i can break her
when she's already been so beautifully broken


he couldn’t bear to look back, though he wanted to so. irina. laura. memories blurred in his mind as he walked the sidewalk, eyes almost closed. he was barely paying attention to where his feet were leading him. he felt her staring at him, felt her round eyes as they blew kisses to his back. but he just kept walking.

later that night jack walked along the river. the river always calmed him. he stood on a bridge and looked below to the waters of the thames. it was late, the sky dark and freckled with stars, the moonlight reflecting off of the water. as he was staring at the black-blue river under him, she walked up. stood next to him. in silence. hand on his hand. he could tell by her breathing how nervous and how heart-broken she was. it was ragged and weary, jolting and uneven. her hand squeezed his. he squeezed back.
“jack…” her voice was soft. the way laura’s was after a fight. it wasn’t a whisper, but it was so quiet he had to strain to hear. he didn’t want to. he pulled his hand away.
“no.”
she grabbed his hand again.
“i loved you. i still love you. but i’m not laura.”
the voice wasn’t quiet anymore. it was angry and demanding. it was rough. her breathing became rough too. she did not look as innocent as she had earlier in the day. now she wore black pants, a blood red shirt. it only reminded him of who she was. and her eyes were dark and wild with fire. there was a power, a fierceness in the way she presented herself.
“i never wanted to hurt you, but it was what i had to do. you would have done the same in my position.” he knew it was true. “i’m not the woman you fell in love with. she was an innocent school teacher. i’m a killer. but it doesn’t mean i can’t feel. it doesn’t mean i can’t need.”
“so what, now you need me?” he scoffed, but he didn’t try to pull away.
“just for one night. one more night. you remember how they used to be…”
god he did. he missed them. the heat. the passion. bodies soaked in salty sweat, tasting each other. eyes closed, mouth open. tongues dueling. fingernails digging into his back. or hands running through his hair. the way she tasted. the way he tasted in her mouth when she was done. the moans. the giggles. trying to keep quiet for their daughter was in another room. he remembered the picnics. their spot in the park. secluded. alone. under the tree. hidden by the bushes.
jack pulled irina into him. as he wrapped himself around her he smelled her. the way she used to smell. the same perfume, the same elegance. it was a cold night and she wasn’t wearing a coat. he took his and draped it over her shoulders.
“always the gentleman,” she whispered.

why do i fall for the dangerous ones - the ones that
don't know how to let go
and why do i lie to myself and pretend that i can break her
when she's already been so beautifully broken


and they went back to his hotel room. door closed. his coat dropped to the floor. she backed him up. he was nervous, pulling away. he didn’t want to do it. but his legs hit the bed and he fell backward onto it. she followed closely. it wasn’t the way it had been before. he had always been the one on top, the powerful, strong, forceful one. but that night he felt she needed him more than he needed her.
she fell into him. they molded together like they always did. slowly, everything fell away. his shirt. her pants. his pants. her shirt. until they were naked together, the plastic-y stick of the hotel room comforter latching to their sweaty skin. every part was memorized. the freckles, the muscles, the birth marks. new scars were discovered, old scars revisited.

she's so beautifully broken - shaped by the wind
dangerously twisted - here i go again


“irina…” it was the first time the name crossed his lips. the first time he spoke it to her. and it was whispered. like some secret he just couldn’t keep.
she guided him into her. and as he thrust, she pushed. she rode him. he held back. he needed her to be satsified before he was. he bit the inside of his lip until it bled. she tasted the blood in the next kiss.
when she came, she yelled his name. it was as though in the voice of a goddess, drifting to his ears like a song. he came with her, saying her name only once; he still wasn’t ready for it. wasn’t used to it.
she climbed off of him but stayed close. stayed wrapped up in him. their breathing heavy, their fingers intertwined. she had one hand on his chest. feeling his heart as it beat wildly, trying to calm itself down. her head rested on his shoulder, as though it were meant to be there. he breathed in, smelling her once more. he ran his hand over her silky soft skin. he closed his eyes and captured the moment in his mind. he wanted it to be with him always and forever, or he would lose her again. as he drifted into a sweet unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but thinking that the reality of that moment was better than his dreams.
and when he woke up, she was gone.

here i go again

m-c
 
hehe. thanks so much. i know les, the song just fit. i mean, i hadn't even heard it, i just looked up the lyrics cuz my sister told me about it and it sounded good. (plus now whenever i think of music i think of songfics :smiley: ) glad you guys liked it.

m-c
 
^ lol when my muse was crackin' I was the same way with songs... I'd constantly be like, "ooh that's perfect!" haha I was on a lot of lyrics sites this summer... ;)
 
“jack…” her voice was soft. the way laura’s was after a fight. it wasn’t a whisper, but it was so quiet he had to strain to hear. he didn’t want to. he pulled his hand away.
“no.”
she grabbed his hand again.
“i loved you. i still love you. but i’m not laura.”
the voice wasn’t quiet anymore. it was angry and demanding.
Nice capture of their need and fear, and the feelings that still link them.
 
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