(no subject)
For the prompt: what if?
Jack wakes from a not-so-pleasant dream of his dead wife - this time it's him drowning in the river and she's laughing, always laughing - only to discover that he's not alone. If it was Sydney in the room with him, she would have already crawled under the covers. Jack wonders if he has enough time to get his gun from the bedside drawer when then intruder suddenly speaks.
"Jack."
It's the voice from his dreams and his nightmares, and he can do nothing except stare as Laura steps forward into the moonlight.
(They show him pictures, a KGB file, but still he refuses to believe.)
She stops at the foot of the bed, and it's only now that he sees the gun held loosely at her side. It looks wrong: Laura and a gun. Those are the hands that cradled their daughter. Those are an assassin's hands. His wife's hands.
And suddenly he knows why she appeared in his bedroom in the dead of night. She's come to kill him. (Doesn't she know he's already dead? He died the moment he heard the name Irina Derevko.)
She's supposed to be dead, too, he thinks, and as he reaches for the bedside drawer she raises the gun.
"You look like hell, Jack."
"Go ahead and shoot me," he says. "Make your daughter an orphan."
She says nothing for a long time, and Jack watches the way her expression turns from stone, to one he recognizes. One he's seen in the mirror for the last year. Somehow, she's as broken as he is.
She lowers the gun. "I thought - If I saw you again, I'd know - But - But - I can't."
He frowns.
"They'll try to kill you anyway, Jack. Take Sydney and run. Promise me you'll run." A tear tracks its way down her cheek, and it's Jack's undoing. "Tell her I love her."
In a flash of insight, he understands. "This was a test, wasn't it?"
She says nothing.
"Will they kill you?"
A quirk of her lips. "I'm already dead."
(He watches Sydney sleep and tells himself that he doesn't care what his wife did or didn't do. As long as she's alive. As long as she comes back to them.)
Looking at her now, he can't help but remember how it was between them, and all he wants to do is take her in his arms again.
"Good luck," she says, and turns to go.
"Wait." He's at her side in an instant. "Come with us."
She looks at him hesitantly. He sees the surprise in her eyes, coupled with hope.
"Please." He touches her arm. "Irina."
It's the first time he's said her name aloud, and he waits with bated breath for her answer. If she says no, he might just knock her out and take her anyway. They can work things out later, when they're somewhere safe.
"For Sydney," she says, making it sound like a question.
And me, he thinks.
"Okay." She smiles. "We have to hurry."
Jack wakes from a not-so-pleasant dream of his dead wife - this time it's him drowning in the river and she's laughing, always laughing - only to discover that he's not alone. If it was Sydney in the room with him, she would have already crawled under the covers. Jack wonders if he has enough time to get his gun from the bedside drawer when then intruder suddenly speaks.
"Jack."
It's the voice from his dreams and his nightmares, and he can do nothing except stare as Laura steps forward into the moonlight.
(They show him pictures, a KGB file, but still he refuses to believe.)
She stops at the foot of the bed, and it's only now that he sees the gun held loosely at her side. It looks wrong: Laura and a gun. Those are the hands that cradled their daughter. Those are an assassin's hands. His wife's hands.
And suddenly he knows why she appeared in his bedroom in the dead of night. She's come to kill him. (Doesn't she know he's already dead? He died the moment he heard the name Irina Derevko.)
She's supposed to be dead, too, he thinks, and as he reaches for the bedside drawer she raises the gun.
"You look like hell, Jack."
"Go ahead and shoot me," he says. "Make your daughter an orphan."
She says nothing for a long time, and Jack watches the way her expression turns from stone, to one he recognizes. One he's seen in the mirror for the last year. Somehow, she's as broken as he is.
She lowers the gun. "I thought - If I saw you again, I'd know - But - But - I can't."
He frowns.
"They'll try to kill you anyway, Jack. Take Sydney and run. Promise me you'll run." A tear tracks its way down her cheek, and it's Jack's undoing. "Tell her I love her."
In a flash of insight, he understands. "This was a test, wasn't it?"
She says nothing.
"Will they kill you?"
A quirk of her lips. "I'm already dead."
(He watches Sydney sleep and tells himself that he doesn't care what his wife did or didn't do. As long as she's alive. As long as she comes back to them.)
Looking at her now, he can't help but remember how it was between them, and all he wants to do is take her in his arms again.
"Good luck," she says, and turns to go.
"Wait." He's at her side in an instant. "Come with us."
She looks at him hesitantly. He sees the surprise in her eyes, coupled with hope.
"Please." He touches her arm. "Irina."
It's the first time he's said her name aloud, and he waits with bated breath for her answer. If she says no, he might just knock her out and take her anyway. They can work things out later, when they're somewhere safe.
"For Sydney," she says, making it sound like a question.
And me, he thinks.
"Okay." She smiles. "We have to hurry."