The Perfect Weapon Chapter 2005: Part 3 Section 2 of 4

[camillecarelli]

Chapter 2005: Part 3 Section 2 of 4

Perhaps this was just a mistake made by a flawed human being who needs...
Help?
A different set of priorities?
Better morals?
An ability to admit her mistakes earlier?
Was it poor timing? Was it a horrible mistake? A nearly fatal one, but a mistake nonetheless? Not made out of malicious intent, but out of...arrogance, personal demons, or...
Is that what it was? Is that what this is about? Is it too late? Jack thought - used to anyway - that love never ends. He certainly wanted to believe that, but then again, Jack is a romantic. Or was. What was she? Is she?
I argued with him that the line should be love never fails. But he thought that was blatantly untrue given what he’d experienced in his life. I argued that love didn’t fail, people did.
Was I right? Or was he?
Is it too late?
Or...not?

“He knew I was alive,” Irina exclaimed. “Those words.” She pointed to the sentence, ‘Is that what this is all about?’ Poking her finger at the word ‘this’ over and over, she looked at Jack excitedly. “This is me. He said, ‘Is she?’ Present tense. That communique. It fits. It fits. Look at that date. It’s not so very long after I sent you the communique.”

“A communique I never received. But you’re right. Dave knew.” Jack picked up that original charm and began rolling it back and forth in his fingers, using it to focus. “You know what this means. He knew. He knew you had tried to contact me. He knew.” Jack flipped through succeeding pages, pointing out bits and pieces of Dave’s prose, finally saying, “He was trying to analyze you, your actions.”

“To see if that communication was real. To determine whether or not to tell you, I would imagine.” Irina looked at one particular paragraph and frowned, unsure of what he meant. If only he were here to ask.

“But he didn’t tell me...” Jack looked down again at the dates in Dave’s notes. Damn it, Dave. You should have told me.

“He must not have told you to try to protect you,” Irina said softly, reading the look on Jack’s face. “He would have worried about your reaction. And he would have wanted proof one way or the other. He would have wanted to know if it was me, or a plant. If it was me, then was I sincere or just trying to set you up? Was I Laura or Irina? And even if I was sincere, was I sincere enough, good enough for you?” She paused. “He was right to ask those questions. And you know he might have thought that way if he was feeling particularly...big-brotherish.”

“And... he must have thought he had all the time in the world.”

“I’ve made that mistake too,” Irina said softly.

“Yes. He thought he had time enough to find the truth. If it was good news, he would tell me. And if it was bad news...” Jack looked at her full in the face. “The truth is...He would have been a bad enemy. Not necessarily in a physical way, but---”

“He probably would have killed me,” Irina said quietly, remembering the fury in Dave’s dark handwriting, those harsh words. “Dave - didn’t he think hand-to-hand was a waste of time when guns with silencers and sharp silent knives were available?”

“I don’t know if he could have done that, Irina,” Jack said equally quietly, although he was sure of no such thing. But what was the point of belaboring it?

Irina shook her head. “No. He could have. I told Weiss last night, this morning? I don’t know, sometime, I told him that the most dangerous enemies are those with a personal vendetta. You know that’s true.”

“Yes, I do. Apparently, however, Sloane has forgotten that.”

“I think he’s miscalculated because, as I told you, I think he thinks that he has some ace in the hole that he can hold over you.” Irina shook her head and pointed back to Dave’s words, seeing that blocky clear handwriting. Rubbing her finger along the edge of the paper, she smiled at the flecks there. She could just see Dave, thinking, sitting there, ploinking his pen up and down or banging that ugly ring of his on the table. See him as if it were yesterday, not decades ago. But then again, Dave didn’t seem lost to her either. She forced herself to focus. Focus on Dave and the infinity charm, she ordered herself. And your own complicity. “Dave...Remember his words earlier on in these notes?”

“I think he would have come to regret them,” Jack said quickly, wondering what Dave would have thought of this turn of events of the last few months. Then he pushed it away. The thought was not useful. He had always had trouble accepting Dave’s death and it was something he had to work on. He had never even cried for Dave, but maybe he should. Or was it too late now? “I think he had almost made up his mind at the end of these notes that, well, I think he saw what I did recently. I think if he’d had more time, he might have---”

“Maybe, maybe not. I mean, you did call me a bitch too,” Irina reminded him with a small smile.

“A cowardly bitch if we’re being precise.” Jack smiled back and leaned forward to drop a swift kiss on her mouth.

“And if we’re being precise....” Irina said firmly. “From Dave’s perspective, well, from anyone’s really, I’d hurt you, my actions had come close to destroying you. And we’re often far more aggressive about pursuing a wrong done to a loved one than one done to ourselves. Dave... He isn’t, I mean, wasn’t as...deadly as you or I, but no one can protect themselves from a sniper or an unseen foe. And Dave, we all know, he could be ruthless. He would have found a way. Some way.”

“When necessary,” Jack agreed. “He wasn’t cold, he didn’t have the core of coldness within that... I or you can draw on, but...”

“He would do that which was effective,” Irina concluded. “And if he determined that my continued existence was antithetical to your health and happiness and he confronted me as an enemy agent...”

“It’s irrelevant, honey,” Jack said soothingly, laying his hand over hers. “Water under the bridge.” He touched the original infinity charm with one finger, drawing her attention away from useless worries about the past. “Did they ever tell you how they knew you had tried to contact me?” Jack looked at Irina carefully. She was...anxious. Had she made the connection yet? Answered the when question?

“No. I never knew,” Irina asked quietly. “I wasn’t in a position to inquire then. And later... I tried to forget about it. If I thought about it at all, I assumed that it had been intercepted somehow. Bad luck. That happens.”

“It did.” Jack said carefully, “I would guess that Sloane intercepted it and informed on you.”

“What?” Irina stared at him. “Wait. I sent it through normal channels using a messenger I trusted.”
“Whom I bet you never saw or heard from again.”

“No. I sent it, not knowing that you’d been imprisoned that long. It never occurred to me that it would take those fools so long to ascertain your innocence. I didn’t know about your illness. I...didn’t do my research. I just wanted to come home without thinking too hard about it, about what I’d done, what consequences... and making those inquiries would have meant that...”

“That you were serious about it. That you had to face that there were consequences.”

Irina winced. She sounded like a child, like... Sydney. Nearly the same age at the time and suffering from the same problem. “Yes. But you might have still been under some form of surveillance, and if so, then Sloane as your supervisor would have...” Irina looked down at the papers before her and turned the pages. There were just a few after that comment they had read aloud. Mostly psychological analysis of her ‘issues’ as they would say today. She nodded, yes, he must have been trying to ascertain if her communique had been sincere, likely, probable. They all dealt in probabilities, after all. That was why they all loved cards.

“Sydney,” Weiss began as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “What was your father like before he lost your mother?”

“Which time? Twenty years ago or in Panama?” Sydney asked, wondering what this was about, wondering what the conversation between Eric and her father had been about.
“Twenty years ago.” Weiss avoided looking at Kendall or Marshall. He hated, well, Jack would call it dissembling, not lying. But c’mon, Jack, get in here and tell Sydney before one of us blows it.

“He was...” Sydney frowned and sat down at the small conference table nearby. She put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. “You know I don’t have full recall.”

Weiss sat down as well. “I know. But you must have some...impressions, something. I mean, I bet, given what I know of both of your parents, that they must have played games with you. Cards, maybe? Can you remember that?”

“Well, yes, actually. I remember...” Sydney looked away. “He... This will seem incredible, impossible. He was smiling. I remember that. I remember him laughing. With my mother. His friend Dave. Arvin Sloane. His other friends. I remember cards...at the table in the kitchen.”

“Like Screw Your Neighbor?” Vaughn asked, sitting down as well. “I liked that game. I won. Beat Derevko too.”

“Yes.” Sydney rolled her eyes at Vaughn. “They also played poker, of course. Bridge. Hearts.”

“I like poker,” Marshall piped up.

“You count the cards, Flinkman,” Kendall accused.

“Why shouldn’t I count cards?” Marshall asked, taking a chair.

“Because it’s unfair,” Kendall griped. “Not all of us can do that, so---”

“I can do that because I was born with that ability.” Marshall pointed at Kendall. “Just as you were born, say, with your height. And if we were running a foot race it would be unfair that you’re about a foot taller than me and your legs are longer, so there’s no way I can beat you. But you would never dream of handicapping yourself so that your strides would be equal to mine, now would you? So why should I?”

“I never thought of it that way,” Vaughn admitted. “There’s inherent inequity in almost every game, isn’t there? Depending upon the gifts one brings and---”

“How one chooses to use them. For good or evil,” Marshall noted, twisting an imaginary moustache.

Jack nodded. “Sloane intercepted it, I would guess. He made the decision not to tell me, not to protect me, but to find another way to use me. A better way, for his purposes. He turned your attempt to come back home into yet another deadly path---”

“Dave might have gotten it first, and told Sloane, wanting his opinion on the veracity of the communique, the trustworthiness of it,” Irina suggested. She bit her lip as she flipped back and forth, not wanting to see the connection before her.

“He might have. Sloane had many contacts in that part of the world. Truthfully, I might have asked for his help as well,” Jack agreed, watching her flip back and forth in the pages. “Either way, it’s clear that they both knew.”

“Jack, this portfolio ends shortly after he clearly knew I’d sent a communique and...” She closed the portfolio and clasped her hands tightly together. Staring at the charms glinting up at her like golden tears, she asked softly, preparing herself, “When did Dave die?”

Jack said gently, his hand rubbing her arm, “Two weeks later. On his last mission.”

“Jack...” Irina gasped, wishing what she was saying was true, but knowing it wasn’t. Wishing her words could make them true. “It can’t be. He can’t have been coming to get me. He wasn’t a field agent, he wouldn’t have---”

“If Sloane had sent him, as a favor to me, he would have. Hell, he probably volunteered, insisted upon going. To protect me from going after you myself. To protect me from thinking you were Laura when you were just setting me up. But he was the one who needed protection. He was the one at risk.”

“From Sloane.” From being involved with me, Irina whispered to the condemning voice in her head. She closed her eyes and then snapped them back open only from sheer force of will. She looked at Jack, wondering if he could see her regrets, her anguish. Her fear. This was a nightmare. A complete nightmare. She had finally come home and...was it too late? Would Jack hate her for inadvertently leading Dave to his death? “So, what you’re saying is that the chain of events is that I sent the communique, which clearly Dave knew about. Which we know Arvin knew about. I was thrown into prison. Cuvee threw the word ‘doubleplay’ at me, then threw this charm at me. Then... Dave died. And I was free, relatively speaking. ‘Rehabilitated’ and given my job at Project Christmas. And Dave was dead. Arvin was free to exploit your vulnerability. And Dave was dead.”

Jack nodded and stared deeply into her eyes. Putting his hand over hers, he stroked the fingers out of their clawed position and made circles in her palm as he related what he had realized the moment he had made the connection between the infinity charm in her hand and the dates in the portfolio. “Yes. It seems likely that Arvin must have thought he held the Holy Grail in his hands with that communique of yours. Realized he held the key to solve so many problems. Get Dave to go on this mission. Lose him. Make sure you stay lost. And without either of you, without any one to advocate for me and for my need for care, I would stay lost as well. Which, I did. I was lost. I didn’t realize you were alive and could be found. That you could find us. I didn’t realize Dave--”

“Jack...I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. All my fault. If I hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have had your illness, you wouldn’t have... And now this. Will it never end?” Irina asked in a whisper. “Jack, I’m sorry. So sorry.” Irina put her other hand out and was almost surprised when Jack immediately took it in his. “I should have... If only... If only, how I hate that phrase! I hate it. It describes too much of my life, my choices and I don’t know what to say beyond that I am so very sorry.”

“Honey, honey...” Jack shook his head and ran his hand up and down her bare arm. “Dave made his own choices. He should have told me. He should have at least... He was no gamesplayer, not like this. He should have...”
“Never trusted Sloane,” Irina said flatly. “But Sloane fooled us all.”

“But why would Dave take the infinity charm?” Jack asked, trying to direct her back into a logical conversation. Wallowing in guilt was neither helpful nor, well, anything good at this point. Although... The fact that she could feel guilt was a sign that she had found the woman he had always thought she could be.

“I don’t know. Proof, perhaps? If he was...” Irina closed her eyes. “We may never know. Perhaps he thought to confront me with it personally. See my reaction.”

“That seems.. Yes. That’s what he might have done. He might have been led to believe he was meeting you.”

“Instead he met his death,” Irina said flatly. Looking at him, meeting his eyes, she told him. “It’s my fault.”

“Stop it.” Jack stared at her. He had been right. This time she was taking the blame? Women. “I won’t allow you to take the blame on this---”

“But it is my fault. If...” What should she say, how could she describe the chain of events that had begun with her poor choice, had led to so much pain and destruction and now... Dave. Lost too. She looked down, blinking rapidly, then forced herself to face the anguish within. “It’s my fault.”

“No. It’s not,” Jack said flatly.

“Yes, it is. If I had never left you---”

“Yes. But that had nothing to do with Dave’s choice, not directly---”

“You’re dissembling. Indirect or direct, it was my--”

“Listen to me. Dave should have told me the truth. He made a mistake. But it is Sloane, it’s Sloane, who is at fault here. He turned something good - your attempt to come home - into yet another opportunity to do evil. He is the one at fault. And he is the one who will pay,” Jack said in a soft whisper that made the hair on the back of Irina’s neck stand up. Jack had an idea about how Sloane might pay, she could tell, but right now she had to focus on not vomiting.

Irina looked at Jack hesitantly and clasped her hands together as she attempted to read his face. She wouldn’t blame him for deep anger, for repudiating her even now. It was her communique, her attempt to rectify her own mistake, that had set all of these links of a chain in motion, clasping them all within a circle with no apparent egress until recently. But Dave... he was lost. Even if his death still didn’t feel real. Even if she kept having to remind herself that he was gone because he didn’t feel gone. He felt as though he were there, here, with them. She leaned her head down on the hope chest and sighed deeply. Jack put his hand on her head and stroked it down her hair and she sat still and hoped his touch was a sign of forgiveness. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Jack, tell me honestly. Do you blame me at all?”

“Blame you?” Jack asked, searching his heart for the answer. He should not hold grudges, that was a pattern he had to break. Deal with it and move on. “I...Don’t think so. Dave made his own choices. Sloane is the one who has to pay. This is one more nail in his coffin. A very large nail, one I intend to hammer through his temple, but...” He paused and looked into her face, marveling that she was allowing him to see anxiety. Not that he was seeing through her bluff, but that she wasn’t trying to bluff her way through it. “Do I wish you had never left? Never made that initial mistake? More than I can ever say. But if I forgive you for that - which I do---”

“Do you? Really?”

“Yes. It hasn’t been easy, but...Yes. And what you did this morning...” Jack shook his head. “I don’t think you truly understand what a perfect weapon that was to defuse my anger.”

“A perfect weapon?” Irina asked slowly. She would have to think about that, since that small smile on his face told her that he wasn’t going to make that deduction easy by, say, telling her!

“Yes. And if I forgive you for that, how can I blame you for trying to rectify that mistake?” Jack asked quietly, his hand still stroking her hair.

“I guess it’s because I still have trouble understanding how you can forgive me. Judy called it grace, that ability to forgive.”

“Did she?” Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. It wasn’t easy. I wouldn’t say that. But perhaps grace isn’t meant to be easy. Perhaps it’s meant to be a journey as well. A journey for the person who forgives and the person who truly asks for forgiveness?”

“And what lies at the end of the journey?” Irina asked, feeling her heart thud in her chest. For so many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she had never had conversations like this with any one else. Conversations that opened her mind, as he had said her thoughts did the same for him. Allowed her to think outside the box, as it were. She ran her fingertip around and around the circles of the new infinity charm as she waited patiently for him to answer. You had to be patient when dealing with a man, after all. Men, small children, annoying teenagers, unhousebroken dogs... Patience. Did Sydney know that?
“I don’t know if there is an end to the journey,” Jack finally said. “Maybe...the journey is the point. Or maybe...what lies at the end is hope that there is another beginning.”

“Maybe...” Irina said softly. She put her hand on the hope chest. “Is that why my key fits this lock?”

“You figured that out?” Jack asked as he took the portfolio and carefully set it aside. A few pictures, the ring, the portfolio and, of course, the memories were all he had of Dave.

Irina held the key in her hand and watched Jack’s face. The sadness and longing as he closed the portfolio made her heart weep with regret. Then he looked up and smiled and taking her hand, put it on the chest lid. What had Jack called it? A hope chest. She examined it, then stopped to run her fingers over the small engraved plate above the lock that read, “Sydney Bristow.”

“A hope chest,” Irina repeated, having a dim memory of some friend of theirs talking about the hope chest her parents had made for her.

‘Hopelessly old-fashioned,’ the girl had laughed.

Emily had gently disagreed. ‘No, it’s hope for your future. How is that old-fashioned?’ Then looking at Laura, she had pointed out gently that, ‘There are some of us who wish we had parents that cared that much.’

The girl had blushed and whispered, ‘Oh sorry, Laura. You seem so self-sufficient, I forget sometimes that you have no family.’

Laura had shaken her head. ‘But I do, I have Jack.’

Running her hands along the top edge, Irina asked, “Does Sydney know about this? What you did for her?”

“No. Go ahead, open it, we can take a few more minutes.” Jack looked at her, wondering why she was waiting. She had to see it, the lock. He gently moved the portfolio out of the way. This was more important than ancient history. He reached out and guided her fingers to the lock and gently pressed her fingertip to the indentation. “You--”

“I have the key. This is the lock for my key.” Irina stared at the lock, his finger on top of hers, then watched as his warm hand curled around hers and squeezed it lightly. She didn’t want to open that chest. No. She didn’t have any right to open Sydney’s hope chest. Why had he done this? Then she took a deep breath. He would have never done this to hurt her. He must think it was important for her to open this, before Sydney.

“Why are you hesitating?” Jack asked, tapping his free hand on the necklace with the key still attached.

“You mean with the key?” Irina picked up the key.

“Go ahead,” Jack urged. “Try it. We have a few more minutes, but not all day, so---”

”But... Why did you give me the key to this hope chest?”

“Because... You gave me my hope back.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Irina said firmly. “You don’t and never have given yourself enough credit for your own changes, your own choices. Then or now. You chose to proceed with therapy and make it work. You chose---”
“You’ve been talking to Judy.”

“Yes. She and I agree on many things, one of which is that you are an exceedingly strong man--”

“I wasn’t always, as you know.” Jack licked his dry lips. It was becoming easier every time to talk about it and... He smiled as Irina turned around to face him, and slid closer. “I’ve had my weak moments as my breakdown attests---”

“‘Life breaks us all, but in the end, we are stronger in the broken places.’” Irina said it softly, cupping her hand on Jack’s cheek and slipping the other around his neck. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Hemingway.” Jack nodded. He bent his head as Irina moved forward to kiss him gently, soothingly.

“Hemingway. And as much as he was an egotistical chauvinist in my opinion,” Irina smiled. “I do believe that in this case, your case, he was right. We will be stronger in the broken places if we choose to be. If we find the glue and fit the pieces back together properly. I know that. Because you show me that.”

“I do?” Jack asked quietly, feeling little pieces of himself that he had not even known were missing fit back together at her healing words.

“Yes. You do. Because your heart was broken.. No. Active voice. I broke your heart and somehow...it’s stronger than it was before. It has to be, to forgive me after all this time, all the water under the bridge.”

“Judy said that she thinks I am actually stronger now than I was before.” Jack firmed his lips. He would have more than hope that she was right. He would have faith. He felt stronger. He felt more...clear-headed about himself, his own needs, about everything now.

“I know you are. I have faith that you are. I hope... you have faith that if you ever need me to help you, to catch you, that you can rely on me to be your strength. As you were mine....” Irina bit her lip. “Then. Now. When I was afraid.”

“When?”

“Our wedding day. When you told me I was pregnant. In the delivery room---”

“What are you talking about? I was a wreck!”

“I know. It was...cute.” Irina laughed as Jack bent forward and bit her ear lobe in retaliation. “But I knew that if I held out my hand...” She did so now and smiled as Jack took it in his warm grasp. “You’d hold onto me and never let go.” She squeezed his hand hard enough to make him wince and remember another time she had done that. “As you know, should know, I will never let you go. I will always hold on and if you need me to, hold you up. I promise.”

“I promise too,” Jack said softly, just before their lips met as they sat there entwined before the hope chest.

“I suppose...” Irina said as their lips reluctantly parted, then clung again, then finally lifted. “I should use my key.”

“I suppose you should. For a quick look anyway. Or...” Jack shrugged. “You can wait. I mean, you don’t need to satisfy your curiosity right now, do you, Pandora?”

Irina turned and ran her hands along the smoothly-polished wooden lid. “There’s no pestilence and disease in here, is there?” she asked slowly.

“I used to think this was all tainted,” Jack answered quietly.
“I’m sorry. There I was using my memory book to get through so much, for all the wrong reasons, just as I used that original charm for all the wrong reasons and here you were, in pain, those memories all tainted --”

“You said a moment ago that it was a gift.”

Irina took the charms and put them back into the puzzlebox and closed it. “And in a way, I suppose it was. It gave me...courage. Strength to go on, to not surrender to despair. A strength then, a weakness later.”

“How so?” Jack asked, turning the puzzlebox over with his fingertip.

“It was a weakness, as I suppose anything can be. When I used my memory book, which I pulled out regularly and this, which I kept hidden away, to keep myself from seeing the truth. A strength becoming a weakness.”

“A double-edge sword.” Jack nodded. “I have some experience in that area. Like with these...” Jack patted the hope chest. “I saved these for Sydney. To help her recover her memory, to cut through the grey miasma that prevents her from remembering so much. Including her father as he once was. But to keep this also cut...”

“It hurt.” Irina nodded. “So why, then? Why keep it when it hurt?” Did she want to know what Jack would have put in a hope chest for Sydney or not? But no, Jack would not have given her a key to this if it would hurt. He must view it as a gift to her in some way. She tilted her head, wondering if her chain was inside. Or her earrings. Or some photographs. Or... She put her hands on the lid and stroked it. A lifetime might be inside. A life.

“Because I remembered that in the story of Pandora the gift at the bottom of the box was hope. So... whatever lies within, carries within it the seeds of hope. So open it up.”

Irina nodded and fitted the key, a tiny thing really, into the lock. With a flick of her wrist, the key turned.

Click

Irina put her hands under the lip of the lid and pushed upward. Peering inside she stared, then frowned. Pushing the lip up higher, she reached her hand inside and took out a small box and held it in her hands.

Jack frowned as well. “Why did you take that?”

“It said, ‘Take me,’” Irina answered softly. “My little voice told me... What’s in here?” she asked urgently, putting the box down between them as if it were on fire.

Ring

“Yes?” Jack asked as he flipped open his phone.

“Jack, I’m just wondering,” Vaughn said hesitantly. “When are you going to get here?”

“Michael,” Jack said a little too loudly, for Irina’s benefit. She seemed...frozen, staring at that box. He was concerned she might speak without thinking and spoil the..surprise. “What’s the problem?”

“Weiss is...asking Sydney about games you all played and she’s getting a little...Well, she was already tense about talking with you, then she talked with you on the phone and seemed calmer but now, she keeps rubbing her temple and---”

“What’s Sark doing?” Jack interrupted.
“He’s rubbing his head, pacing. He looks..pale, I guess, although it’s hard to tell on the monitor. Wait, he just turned to face the monitors...” Vaughn gave a reluctant chuckle. “He just said, ‘Tell Jack to get his bloody arse here now.’ He’s so arrogant and irr---”

“Has he had breakfast?” Jack asked. He really didn’t want the flying monkey to vomit on him during the interrogation.

“How the hell do I know? Do I look like a waiter to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps that was your life’s ambition given how easily you caved in when Kendall ordered you to get Irina coffee.”

Vaughn felt his mouth fall open. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell Kendall where to stick it. Or even better, get her the coffee but spit in it first.”

“I...” Vaughn spluttered.

“We need to take our small...revenges in order to get through life without...how shall I say this?” Jack mused. “Without ending up with a hockey stick shoved up our asses.”

“How, what...” Vaughn spluttered again. “Well, of course you think having revenge is important.”

“Sometimes, it is. Sometimes another option is that you need to let it go, move on. After of course you deal with it properly. In one's own way.”

“And now you’re a font of emotional wisdom?” Vaughn snapped.

“I should be. I’ve had enough therapy. If I haven’t learned something by now... Well, I’d be like Kendall. And that would be a bad thing.”

Vaughn blinked. “Did you just make a joke?”

Sydney called out, “Did you just ask my father about making a joke? What’s going on?”

“Yes, Jack. What’s going on?” Vaughn asked in a near whisper, feeling as if he were caught in a revolving door with no exit.

“Michael,” Jack said soothingly. “I have no doubt that you can handle anything I throw at you.”

“Well, I have doubts.”

“Well, life is a series of tests, isn’t it?”

Vaughn shook his head. “It shouldn’t be. Life shouldn’t be so difficult and I don’t want it to be---”

“If that’s what you want, then I suggest you take up residence in a cemetery. And hope that when you want to come back to life, the people you love are still alive.”Jack snapped the phone closed and looked over at his wife who had looked back into the chest. He prompted his wife. “Honey, we have to get back to work. So if you want to open that, then---”

Irina lightly ran her hands over the irregular planes of items in the chest. She could see so much, but just the edges of everything. Except this one box sitting before her, outside the hope chest. Waiting, she thought, fancifully she thought. She pulled her hands out of the chest and laid her hand on the small jewelry box before them. “May I?”

“Of course. One of those is yours, anyway.”
“One? Just one?” Irina teased, forcing herself to lightness although she felt far from light. No, she felt... She couldn’t have said what she felt if her life depended upon it because she felt as if she were watching the scene from afar. She blinked as she realized Jack was talking.

“Yes, just one,” Jack told her, looking at her carefully. That box seemed to both call to and repel her, but why? “I don’t think you want the other one. Or at least I recall you teasing him about it too--”

“Him?” Irina asked even as she knew the answer. Knew... No, no, no.

Irina slowly opened the small wooden box before her. She stared at the two bands of gold nestled inside the dark box with the blue velvet cushion. The large sapphire ring glinted up at her in the light from the window, reminding her of the dark night in the cemetery when they had celebrated the new life they had made together. It was appropriate, she would think later, to see this ring, that symbol at this moment when a new life was also beginning. But in that moment, all she could see was the glowing ruby at the center of the large man’s ring next to it. The blue, as blue as a new born baby’s eyes, new life and new hope staring at the red circle. Red.. Life or death? A mother bled when she brought new life into the world and... death often brought more blood. Red. Life or death? Both circles, blue and red. The rings... The dots, the damn dots. She blinked, then blinked again, willing the spots before her eyes to go away.

“Honey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jack said gently. He reached out and rubbed his thumb against her shoulder, feeling her shiver.

“How did you get this ring?” Irina asked, reaching a finger out to touch the ruby, then pulling it away as if it had burned her.

“Dave’s parents insisted I have it. To thank me for identifying him.” Jack firmed his lips, then forced himself to continue. “To thank me for finding him and bringing him back home. Even if it was in pieces,” he finished grimly, willing away the images that had haunted him for so long. It was time to let them go. Remember Dave as he had been. Always so full of life. Not as random body parts. Except for that finger with the ring. He shook his head.

Irina looked up slowly. Placing a gentle hand on Jack’s knee, she rubbed her hand back and forth. “I see. Did you always have it in here?”

“No. I...hid it for a long time. Various places. I...couldn’t bear to look at it because...”

“You saw Dave and...?” Irina pressed. There was no logical, apparent reason to keep pressing, but the little voice was asking, What if? What if what? she wanted to scream. What? What am I missing? What damn dot is missing now? Or is this ring one of the missing dots? Is that it? What is it? She could feel the puzzle edges closing in now, the answer - - the center -- lay just out of reach. The answer lay within... She looked up at her husband. “The ring, Jack. When you looked at it before, what?”

“When I looked at it, I saw... Dave as he was when I identified him and...” Jack shook his head. I didn’t want to remember him like that.”

“But you don’t any longer?” The when question, she thought.

“No.” Jack looked at his watch, trying to tamp down his impatience as he remembered Weiss’ comment that he’d felt it was important that Jack get back to interrogate Sark. They needed to move. He felt the need to move. “Honey, let’s---”

“Since when? Since when do you not feel that way any longer about the ring?” Irina asked quickly, sensing Jack’s impatience warring with her need to question. She could tell sheer good manners his mother had instilled so long ago were all that kept him from yelling at her and pushing her out the door.
“Since....I don’t know. Maybe since I heard Arvin say that he knew you’d tried to contact me, when he called Dave a stupid fool..." The longer she talked, the more anxious Jack felt to leave. "Can we go? Can’t we talk about this later? I really feel--”

“He said that because he was smug that he’d doublecrossed Dave.” Irina looked down at the ring.

“Yes, you’re right.” Jack stood up.

“I do like to hear you say that,” Irina smiled and looked back up into her husband’s warm brown eyes but kept seeing Dave’s bright blue eyes. Sark... She blinked and prompted, “But that’s when you started to remember Dave...as he was before...”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“I... I suppose we should go to work. We need to see Sark.” Need, Irina decided, was the correct word. The same little voice that had called out, Take me, about that box was now nearly screaming, Go!

“I’m afraid so.” Jack sighed with relief and held out his hand to Irina, who grabbed it. On the way up, she scooped up the small box. Closing it, she held it in her hand and later transferred it to her purse before leaving.

“Why are you taking that box?” Jack asked as Irina slipped on her black jacket and picked up her purse.

“It keeps telling me to take it.”

“Boxes are talking to you now?” Jack teased. “Perhaps you need an appointment with Judy? Or a nap.”

“A nap,” Irina agreed. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’d like to doze in the car on the way back to work.” I want to think. Or...maybe I will sleep and use your technique of letting my mind figure this out on its own.

“Go ahead. I enjoy watching you sleep,” Jack smiled as they left their apartment.

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re cute when you drool?” Jack laughed as she slapped at him.

Pressing the elevator button, Irina cast Jack a sly glance. “And you’re cute when you talk in your sleep.”

“I don’t know if I still do that,” Jack commented as they entered the elevator.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t actually slept, as in sleeping, with a woman since you left,” Jack admitted.

“Why?” Irina asked. She would not think about him doing anything with any woman in any bed that didn't involve sleeping. No, she would not.

“I was afraid of giving up my secrets in my sleep.”

“Well, don’t worry about that with me,” Irina smiled and ran her fingers up and down Jack’s tie. “I have other ways of getting your secrets from you.”

“Oh, I was hoping it meant that we weren’t going to be doing much sleeping---”
Irina rolled her eyes. “You know, Jack, you never ate any breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Do you feel some sudden need to feed me?”

“I...liked feeding you, to tell you the truth. You always seemed so appreciative.”

“Oh, I was,” Jack smiled. Then scanning his eyes up and down her body, he added, “However if you wanted to feed me now, honey, it would have been more efficient to wear a skirt instead of pants.”

Irina opened her mouth and then snapped it closed.

Ding

The elevator door opened and another resident entered. Blandly, Jack asked, “Going down too?”

Irina bit her lip and looked skyward as the door closed and Jack pressed a button.

TBC at Chapter 2005: Part 3 section 3 of 4