response #2 to "Scarecrow" titles challenge
Season 2, to "Truth Takes Time"
A/N: I took a little liberty with the title, and my memory of the ep is a bit spotty. (Or selective, rather.) Work with me here.
It's In the Water
When the alarms sounded and they rushed out of the vault, Julian had shot her a withering glance. But his fit of pique would have to wait until their escape. The tracker had to be disabled, and now. They ran upstairs and then stopped to find an empty corridor.
When the door snicked close behind them, Irina had bypassed denial and was just finished with blaming herself when she firmly settled on righteous indignation.
You shit-eating bastard. You lying, scheming, manipulative… goddamn bastard. Where did you put another transmitter?
Julian set about getting the defibrillator ready and flipped on the search wand. They only had a minute or two before the building went up, and she would only have a limited time to warn Sydney and to get out.
And when? When did you do it, Jack? We were busy.
The finder in Julian’s hand chirped absently, halfwittedly taking its time in locating the tracker. Time and their chances were slipping away.
Not when we were having sex. No, it couldn’t have been. I was paying attention. Close attention.
“It’s on you somewhere. Where did they put it?” Julian slowly moved the detector over the front of her blouse, and when his hand stopped in front of her breasts, a whiny screech sounded in judgment.
Fine, he felt you up, twisted your nipples. Hard. But that was nothing. You'd begged him to.
Little pearl buttons flew around them like bullets when she angrily tore her shirt open.
Nothing but the deepest pleasure you’d had in a decade or two. How could he? When could he?
Julian looked at her as though she might spontaneously combust. She could tell he was turned on and--in the same moment--utterly terrified by her. She lost her patience.
“Do it,” she hissed.
He grabbed the paddles and busily rubbed them together, and they waited for the machine to fully charge. Julian’s eyes were everywhere but on her body, willing the machine to charge faster. He tried to think of the explosives-he had set the C-4 charges himself and knew the sequence without thinking. The bank alarms were ringing in their ears and the CIA was storming into the building. Sydney was probably very nearby.
But Irina’s mind was elsewhere, trying to recount every second of the night with Jack, every stroke, every breathless thrust, every wincing grasp that left marks on his arms, her thighs.
You were under him, on top of him. You never let him go. And felt everything. Felt it all. He couldn’t possibly have had the chance--
The defib machine whined its alert-fully charged. Julian put the paddles close to her chest and looked into her eyes.
We didn’t leave the bed all night. The table didn't count.
She put her arms against the wall to brace herself, exasperated. “Just do it!”
Julian put the paddles to her chest and squeezed, and all the suns in the universe exploded behind her eyes. When she caught her breath and opened her eyes, she saw Julian looking at her curiously, like she’d suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.
“It's done. We need to leave.”
Julian picked up the suitcase on the floor as she put her jacket on over her open blouse. He walked to the door and held it open for her but she was still, pausing just a second.
Wait. I’d poured the wine but he tipped the porter. It was the room service that wasn’t.
She stalked out into the hallway, and after getting rid of Sark and the suitcase, broke into a run to find Sydney, give her a warning. At the next turn, she saw Sydney at the end of the hall, running the wrong way. She smiled slightly before calling out to her daughter.
Now he's just teasing me.
A/N: I took a little liberty with the title, and my memory of the ep is a bit spotty. (Or selective, rather.) Work with me here.
It's In the Water
When the alarms sounded and they rushed out of the vault, Julian had shot her a withering glance. But his fit of pique would have to wait until their escape. The tracker had to be disabled, and now. They ran upstairs and then stopped to find an empty corridor.
When the door snicked close behind them, Irina had bypassed denial and was just finished with blaming herself when she firmly settled on righteous indignation.
You shit-eating bastard. You lying, scheming, manipulative… goddamn bastard. Where did you put another transmitter?
Julian set about getting the defibrillator ready and flipped on the search wand. They only had a minute or two before the building went up, and she would only have a limited time to warn Sydney and to get out.
And when? When did you do it, Jack? We were busy.
The finder in Julian’s hand chirped absently, halfwittedly taking its time in locating the tracker. Time and their chances were slipping away.
Not when we were having sex. No, it couldn’t have been. I was paying attention. Close attention.
“It’s on you somewhere. Where did they put it?” Julian slowly moved the detector over the front of her blouse, and when his hand stopped in front of her breasts, a whiny screech sounded in judgment.
Fine, he felt you up, twisted your nipples. Hard. But that was nothing. You'd begged him to.
Little pearl buttons flew around them like bullets when she angrily tore her shirt open.
Nothing but the deepest pleasure you’d had in a decade or two. How could he? When could he?
Julian looked at her as though she might spontaneously combust. She could tell he was turned on and--in the same moment--utterly terrified by her. She lost her patience.
“Do it,” she hissed.
He grabbed the paddles and busily rubbed them together, and they waited for the machine to fully charge. Julian’s eyes were everywhere but on her body, willing the machine to charge faster. He tried to think of the explosives-he had set the C-4 charges himself and knew the sequence without thinking. The bank alarms were ringing in their ears and the CIA was storming into the building. Sydney was probably very nearby.
But Irina’s mind was elsewhere, trying to recount every second of the night with Jack, every stroke, every breathless thrust, every wincing grasp that left marks on his arms, her thighs.
You were under him, on top of him. You never let him go. And felt everything. Felt it all. He couldn’t possibly have had the chance--
The defib machine whined its alert-fully charged. Julian put the paddles close to her chest and looked into her eyes.
We didn’t leave the bed all night. The table didn't count.
She put her arms against the wall to brace herself, exasperated. “Just do it!”
Julian put the paddles to her chest and squeezed, and all the suns in the universe exploded behind her eyes. When she caught her breath and opened her eyes, she saw Julian looking at her curiously, like she’d suddenly sprouted horns and a tail.
“It's done. We need to leave.”
Julian picked up the suitcase on the floor as she put her jacket on over her open blouse. He walked to the door and held it open for her but she was still, pausing just a second.
Wait. I’d poured the wine but he tipped the porter. It was the room service that wasn’t.
She stalked out into the hallway, and after getting rid of Sark and the suitcase, broke into a run to find Sydney, give her a warning. At the next turn, she saw Sydney at the end of the hall, running the wrong way. She smiled slightly before calling out to her daughter.
Now he's just teasing me.