Welcome to the Madhouse

It's still really good. :D
Just wondering, you don't have to answer this or anything, but how far into the future do you plan on taking Irina?
Thanks for the PM.
 
That is a great story, it shows a whole different aspect of Irina's life. Please write more soon. :smiley:

Could you send me a PM when the next chapter is up? Thanks.
 
IrinaDerevko said:
That is a great story, it shows a whole different aspect of Irina's life. Please write more soon. :smiley:

Could you send me a PM when the next chapter is up? Thanks.
Ditto. I totally agree with Liz. As we both say, "IRINA ROCKS!!" :smiley: (y)

Yeah, could you send me a PM too if it isn't too much trouble?

~Erika
 
All right. Sorry about how long this has taken me to finally put up. (My family keeps dragging me off to the ends of the earth.) And, I'm just a tad out of it, so if for some reason this episode seems not to make sense, just smile, nod, and walk away. :P

All right. So, where were we now???? Okay....

A week later, Irina had three suitcases ready for her move to America. She was shocked to see Tkachev trundling in with three suitcases and two garment bags. She had struggled to fill the three mis-matched suitcases that were part of the character she was becoming. She looked at the man she thought she knew. He had slicked his hair back and was dressed in American clothes. So was Irina, but for some reason Tkachev look natural, while Irina felt out of dress in the skirt and boots that she had been provided with. Tkachev smiled at her. "You look nice," he says.

The flight from Moscow to D.C. was long and awkward. It was already rough for Irina to remember the story she would have to tell thousands of times on this mission.



Ok. Sorry this is SO incredibly short. I just didn't have time tonight, but I wanted to get it started.
 
Hey, I could've sworn I posted here before...
I think the new chapter's great!!
Have fun at whatever ends of the earth your family is dragging you off to!!!
 
Tkachev sat next to Irina on the flight to New York. They were flying into New York before connecting on a flight to Los Angeles. They had already assumed their aliases and had to treat each other as brother and sister. During her training, Irina had learned rudimentary English, but it was not much of a risk as she would be posing as a Russian. Tkachev's English, however, was fluent. He would act as a translator for her until she perfected the language. Once she had gotten used to the language Irina would take the job as a literature professor.

"Miss, would you like a drink?" the stewardess asked Irina in English. Tkachev turned to Irina and whispered the same in Russian. Irina nodded, asking for a soda. Tkachev relayed her answer to the stewardess, who handed Irina a glass. Irina nodded, silently thanking her. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to have to send every question or thought through a translator. At that point she decided she would do everything necessary to learn the English language.

Irina was able to fall asleep for a while on the plane, while Tkachev read next to her. When they landed in New York, Irina grabbed her purse and bag, sliding out of her seat. She was ready to get off of the plane. It was the first time Irina had flown, and after twelve hours on the plane her legs hurt and she was tired of breathing in the stale air.

In the airport, Tkachev led Irina to their next flight. It was Irina's first glance at America. They were being passed on all sides by people who didn't even give them a second glance. In Russia you couldn't go anywhere without someone looking at you like you were doing something wrong. Here, Irina felt like she could do anything and no one would give it a second thought.

They got settled on the next flight where Irina glanced through an American magazine which she was able to understand most of. She looked at the career wear that American women were shown wearing. She looked to her right to see if Tkachev was awake. He was. She tapped his arm, then showed him the magazine. She whispered in Russian. "Do you think I could get some clothes like this when I get my job?" Tkachev looked down at the women in skirts. "We'll see," he said and turned away. Irina went back to her magazine.

They finally landed in Los Angeles. Tkachev and Irina walked off the plane. Tkachev led her to the baggage claim where they got their suitcases. Outside of the airport, Tkachev flagged down a taxi as Irina started at her surroundings. She was fascinated by the warmth of the air that brushed up against her face. When they got into the taxi, Tkachev gave the driver an address and they took off. Staring out the window, Irina watched as people walked by on the street in shorts and swimsuits, going in and out of shops. She was hit with a sudden urge to be one of them, to stroll around without a care in the world.
 
Los Angeles, California, USA Early Summer, 1972

Irina had now been in the United States for almost three months. She had spent all of her time trying to learn the language, and was now relatively prepared. Tkachev had arranged for a private tutor who had Irina read books in English so she would be prepared for her job as a professor of literature. Irina now had falsified documents stating she had degrees from prestigious American colleges, and was certified to teach college students. Tkachev had given Irina tips on how to conduct herself and how to dress so she would appear older, not her natural eighteen. Her falsified Russian birth certificate said that she was twenty-five. Irina would begin as a teaching assistant in a literature course, gradually working her way up to professor status. That morning Tkachev had informed Irina that she had only one more week to prepare for the job.

Since they had arrived, Irina and Tkachev had been sharing a small two-bedroom apartment in downtown LA. Tkachev had already begun his cover job as a journalist working for a local Russian newspaper. They had yet to meet Arvin Sloane. They were waiting for Irina's cover to be established before making their move.


On Irina's first day on the job, Tkachev handed her a leather briefcase. "You'll do great," he said, smiling. Irina smiled back. She gathered the papers and books that the university had sent over for her to get prepared with. There were butterflies in her stomach. She was so nervous, not knowing what to expect. Tkachev had informed her that American universities were different than Russian universities. He had not fully explained the difference, however.
 
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