Living a Lie

By Rachel

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, I’m not making any money, and I’m just having fun.

 

Chapter 1

October 1981

 

Irina Derevko, aka Laura Bristow, walked into a Los Angeles hotel and registered under the name Karen Green.  In the room, she sat down and waited for her handler.  She was surprised when she didn’t see him immediately; he was usually right on time, and she’d been ten minutes late today—a student had been unhappy with her grade on her research paper and had gone on about it for what seemed like forever before Irina could convince her that she wasn’t going to change the grade.

 

After a few minutes, she glanced at her watch, annoyed.  This was a bad time for Igor to be late.  Hell, it was a bad time for a meeting at all, but she had no way to let him know that.  Sydney was home sick with a stomach bug, and she’d been left with a babysitter all day.  Jack was out of the country all week, and so Irina needed to get home.  She’d contemplated skipping the meeting, but it would have been a bad idea—she’d already skipped the last one when Jack got home from a trip early.  A part of her hoped that Igor wouldn’t show up.  He’d been hinting about the possibility of her “going home soon.”  She couldn’t let him know, of course, that after ten years here, Russia wasn’t home anymore.  But she knew that she would eventually be recalled, and she was trying to prepare herself to leave her family, difficult as it was.

 

A few more minutes passed.  Irina turned on the television and tried to get interested in an inane talk show.  It didn’t work.

 

When her handler’s lateness hit the half-hour mark, Irina knew she couldn’t wait any longer.  She turned off the television and picked up the phone.

 

“Hello?”  Lou Harris, the retired woman from across the street who was staying with Sydney, answered the phone.

 

“Hi, it’s Laura,” Irina said.  “How’s Sydney?”

 

“Better,” Mrs. Harris said.  “She hasn’t gotten sick since lunch time.  She’s been asking when you’re going to get home.”

 

“There was a minor incident at school that kept me late, but I’m getting ready to leave now.”

 

“I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

 

“Thanks so much, Lou.  Bye.”  Irina hung up the phone, glanced at her watch one last time, and left.  She settled the bill and left a note for Igor in case he should show up, then headed home.

 

Twenty minutes later she walked into the den and smiled when she saw Sydney on the couch, watching a video.  “Mommy!” Sydney cried when she saw her.  “You’re late.”

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had to stay late at school today.  Mrs. Harris said you’re feeling a little better.”

 

“My tummy doesn’t hurt so bad, but I still have a headache and I’m tired.  Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

 

Irina put a hand on Sydney’s forehead.  “You don’t have a fever anymore.  We’ll see about school in the morning.”

 

“Okay, Mommy.”

 

Irina paused for a moment, then leaned over and hugged her daughter.  “I love you, Sydney,” she whispered into the child’s hair.

 

“I love you too, Mommy.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 2

 

“I’m home!” Jack Bristow called as he walked through the front door and put his suitcase down.

 

“Daddy!”  Sydney came running out of the kitchen and barreled into him.

 

He picked her up and gave her a hug.  “Hey, how’s my favorite girl?”

 

“I missed you, Daddy.  What did you bring me?”

 

Jack smiled.  He looked up to see Laura coming out of the kitchen at a more decorous pace and winked at her as he set Sydney down.  “Just a minute while I get your present out of my bag,” he said.  Sydney had somehow figured out a year or so ago that she was entitled to a present whenever her father returned from a business trip.  Jack of course didn’t have time for shopping trips during most of his CIA missions, so Laura kept a supply of gifts on hand and packed one in Jack’s suitcase for every trip.  Jack found the brightly wrapped box in his bag; it was a big one this time, since Laura had known the trip would be long.  He handed it to Sydney, who ripped off the wrapping.

 

“A Mr. Potato Head!” she cried with glee.  “Thank you Daddy, thank you Mommy.”  Leaving the torn wrapping paper on the floor, she flew up the stairs to play with her new toy.

 

Jack turned to Laura.  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, finally greeting her properly.  When they broke for air, Jack said, “I think she’s onto our scam.”

 

Laura said, “Yes, but I don’t think she cares.”  She bent to pick up the wrapping paper.  “How was your trip?”

 

“Horrible,” Jack said simply.  “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you and Sydney to come home to.  You’re the only part of my life that’s normal and sane.” 

 

Laura smiled and reached up to pull him into a hug.  “I missed you,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry I had to be gone while Sydney was sick.  I see she’s feeling better.”

 

“It was just a little touch of stomach flu,” Laura said, pulling away.  “Are you hungry?  Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

 

“Of course I’m hungry,” he said.  “Call me when it’s ready.”  He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, then picked up his suitcase and went upstairs to unpack.

 

Laura stood watching him for a moment, fighting to keep back the tears that were threatening.  Once she had herself under control, she went into the kitchen to finish dinner.

 

***

 

Mark Dawson, head of the Los Angeles division of the CIA, walked into his office and took a folder from Agent Arvin Sloane without looking at him.  The CIA had captured a KGB agent named Igor Valenko right here in L.A. only three days ago, and Dawson had just been called at home with the news that Valenko’s interrogation had finally produced results.

 

Dawson flipped open the folder and skimmed the front page.  He saw the name “Bristow” and shut it again.  “So our mole is Jack Bristow after all.”

 

“No, sir, not Jack,” Sloane said.

 

Dawson opened the folder and read more closely.  He looked up at Sloane, completely shocked.  “Laura?”

 

*****

 

Chapter 3

 

“I can’t believe that Laura Bristow could possibly be a spy, Arvin,” Mark Dawson said.

 

“According to Valenko, she’s a KGB plant.  Her real name is Irina Derevko.  He even gave us the name of the hotel where he met with her to get information,” Sloane said.

 

Dawson shook his head.  “God, Arvin, you’ve seen them together.  Hell, you’re friends with them.  Do you really believe that woman is acting?  She’s obviously in love with him.”

 

“It seems impossible to me, too, but Valenko was quite specific.”

 

“All right.  I suppose we’ll have to at least look into it.  Put her under surveillance and do a full background check.  And get as much information about this hotel where they supposedly meet as possible.  If Laura Bristow should happen to have a meeting with her KGB handler, as ridiculous as that sounds, I want to be able to record it.”

 

Arvin nodded and left to set everything up.  Dawson sat down and opened the interrogation folder.  How could it be possible?  Every man in the office who had ever seen Jack and Laura together was jealous; the two of them were so obviously, deeply in love.  He shook his head.  Valenko had been lying, he was sure of it.  He would watch Laura Bristow for a while, perhaps a month; nothing would happen, and she would be cleared.  He was absolutely positive of that.

 

***

 

On a chilly Thursday night, two CIA agents sat smoking in a surveillance van across the street from a church.  They were both thoroughly bored; they’d had the 4 p.m. to midnight shift trailing Laura Bristow for seven of the last eight days.  “This is ridiculous,” one of the men said.  “She’s clean.”

 

“She’s in the goddamn church choir, for crying out loud,” the other man said.  They lapsed back into silence as they listened to the music drifting from the church.

 

Inside the church, Irina’s mind was not fully on the music she was singing.  She had a new handler, and she was meeting him tonight.  She only knew that it was a different person by the handwriting on the note.  She was also being tailed, and had been for the past week.  She didn’t know whether it was KGB, who had done spot surveillance on her for the past ten years, or the CIA.  The last week had been nerve-wracking.  She had found herself thinking yesterday that she wished it were all over; she was so tired of the lies, of loving her husband and daughter while knowing that they would one day hate her.  She had reminded herself that going back to Russia would only make things worse; first there would be months of debriefing, and then, given her success on this mission, she would likely be sent out on another “swallow” mission.

 

“Good work tonight, everyone,” the choir director said, startling her out of her thoughts.  “I’ll see you all on Sunday.”

 

“Is everything all right, Laura?” asked Emily Sloane, a fellow choir member, as they put their music away.

 

“Yes, fine.  I’m just a little tired; getting ready for Halloween is always busy.”

 

Emily smiled.  “What’s Sydney going to be this year?”

 

Laura sighed.  “She hasn’t decided yet.  Today she was debating the relative merits of Cinderella versus a cat; yesterday it was either going to be Alice in Wonderland or a witch.  I told her she has to decide by tomorrow so I can get her costume together this weekend.”

 

Emily grinned.  “Good luck with that.  Do you want to go out for a drink, or are you too tired?”

 

“Too tired.  Maybe next week.  I’ll see you Sunday.”  She left Emily and walked out to her car.  Jack’s car, actually; the transmission on hers had been acting up for a couple of weeks now.  “Going out for drinks after choir practice” was a perfect excuse to give Jack for meetings with her handler, and the reason Igor thought she had joined the church choir when they moved to California.  The real reason, the reason she had given Jack, was that she had done a lot of singing when she was younger and missed it.

 

Irina noticed the tail pull out behind her, of course.  She headed straight for the hotel.  If it was a CIA tail, the drinks excuse would work fine, since the hotel had a nice restaurant and bar that drew outside business.  If it was a KGB tail, well, she was going where she was supposed to go.

 

“Shit,” said one of the CIA agents in the van and he watched Laura Bristow’s car pull into the parking lot of the hotel they had been told to watch for.  “What do you know?”  He immediately radioed CIA headquarters.  CIA headquarters called their operative at the hotel, who moments later gave “Karen Green” the key to a room that the CIA had bugged a week earlier.

 

*****

 

Chapter 4

 

“Irina Derevko,” the unfamiliar man said as he entered the hotel room.

 

Irina raised her eyebrows.  “And who might you be?”

 

“Don’t you wish to speak your native language?” he asked in Russian.

 

“I wouldn’t want to go home to my husband with an accent,” she answered, also in Russian.

 

The man smiled, placed the brown paper bag he was carrying on the small table, and sat down.  “Igor Valenko is dead,” he said in accented English as he removed a glass bottle and a martini glass from the bag.  “I am Leon Volsky.  I’ll be your new handler.”  He poured from the bottle into one of the martini glasses and handed it to her.

 

She took the glass and sipped.  “What happened?” she asked.

 

“He was nearly captured by the CIA,” Volsky said.  “He was shot and killed trying to escape them.”

 

Arvin Sloane, listening through the bug at CIA headquarters, smiled.  Their attempt to make it seem that Valenko had never been captured had been successful.

 

“Is my cover safe?” Irina said, continuing to sip the martini.

 

“There is no reason for it not to be.  Tell me, why the martinis?”

 

“My husband thinks I’m having drinks with friends.”

 

“Jack Bristow, CIA agent,” Volsky said.  “You have been married how long?”

 

“Ten years.”

 

“A very long time to stay undercover.  Do you wish to be extracted?”

 

Irina was silent for a moment as she took two sips of the martini.  “He suspects nothing.  I am still providing much valuable information to the KGB.”

 

“Yes.  You have a child with this man?”  Irina nodded.  “That is highly irregular.”

 

“It was an accident.  I forgot to take my pill while Bristow was out of town; he returned unexpectedly.”

 

“I see.  Since you are willing, your superiors wish you to remain undercover.  Do you have any information for me tonight?”  Irina passed him an envelope.  “Good.  I will contact you regarding our next meeting in the usual way.”  He packed up the bottle and glass and left.  Irina checked the clock.  Since she had plenty of time to get home tonight, she would wait twenty minutes.

 

Mark Dawson had arrived at CIA headquarters in time to hear the last half of the conversation; Arvin Sloane briefed him on what he had missed.  Dawson had been thinking a lot about Laura Bristow over the past week, and had come up with a way that the situation might be able to work out to the CIA’s advantage.  “Activate Plan A,” he said to Arvin.

 

***

 

Half an hour later, Irina was on her way home when a car suddenly pulled out directly into the back driver’s side door of her car.  She instinctively turned the wheel to the right, went a little too far, and drove the car into a tree.  She screamed as pain exploded in her right leg; moments later, she passed out.

 

***

 

Jack Bristow had just put Sydney to bed when he was struck with a wave of uneasiness.  Something’s wrong with Laura, he thought.  He tried to shake it off, telling himself that it was just a groundless hunch.  Laura wasn’t even late yet, if she had gone out with some of her friends from choir as she often did.

 

When forty minutes passed and Laura still wasn’t home, Jack was sure something was wrong.  When the doorbell rang, he had to force himself to go open the front door.

 

Arvin Sloane stood there.  “Jack, I need you to get Sydney and come with me,” he said.

 

“Something’s happened to Laura,” Jack whispered.

 

“I’m sorry, Jack…there’s been an accident.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 5

 

Jack stared at his best friend for a moment.  Then his body reminded him that he was supposed to be breathing; he let out a strangled sob.  “Is she…”  He couldn’t say it; he couldn’t ask if the woman he loved more than life itself was dead.

 

“She’s alive,” Arvin said.  “She’s got some broken bones, but she’ll be all right.”

 

“Thank God,” Jack said.  But…if she was alive, and she was going to be all right, why did Arvin look as though the world were ending?  He pushed that aside.  “Where is she?”

 

“The naval hospital,” Arvin said.  “She was driving your car, so the police called the CIA first.”  He paused.  “I already talked to Emily; we’re going to take Sydney over to my house, and then I’ll take you to the hospital.”

 

Jack nodded.  “Come in,” he said.  “Help me with Sydney…I don’t want to wake her…”

 

Arvin nodded.  He could see that the man in front of him was on the verge of breaking down.  He could only wonder what would happen when Jack found out the truth.

 

***

 

Irina moaned as she regained consciousness.  The tremendous pain running through her right leg made it difficult to think at first, but then her training took over and she was able to compartmentalize.  She remembered the two jolts, first as the car came out of nowhere, the second as her own car hit the tree.  Was she in a hospital?

 

She opened her eyes.  She was definitely not in a hospital.  She was sitting in a small, bare room.  The only features were a large mirror on one wall, which was doubtless a one-way glass, and an empty folding chair.  Her right leg had a rudimentary splint on it and was propped up on what looked like a small table.  Her hands were down and behind her; she tried to lift them and was rewarded with the feel of metal cutting into her wrists.  Handcuffs.  She wondered who was holding her.  Had the CIA found her out?  Had she somehow upset the KGB?  Or had yet another organization somehow found out that she was a spy?

 

Her question was answered when the door opened and Mark Dawson entered.  “Laura Bristow,” he said as he sat in the chair.  “Or should I say Irina Derevko.”

 

Irina inhaled sharply.  The CIA knew everything.  Of course they did, she thought, her mind racing.  If they had just suspected her they wouldn’t have staged the accident.  “Jack and Sydney are in danger,” she said.  “If they know I’ve been discovered…”

 

“I’ve already foreseen that possibility.  It’s been taken care of,” Dawson said.  Irina closed her eyes and let out a small sigh of relief.  “Who are you working for?”

 

If Dawson knew her real name, then he already knew who she was working for.  This was a test to see if she would cooperate.  A sudden wave of despair washed over her.  It didn’t matter what she said, she realized.  Even if she didn’t say a word, they undoubtedly had enough information to convict her of espionage.  If she refused to talk, she would be interrogated, and they would, eventually, make her talk.  When she was no longer useful to them, she would die.  Perhaps there would be a public trial, perhaps a quiet murder; it didn’t matter.  If she did cooperate, they would bleed her of information and then get rid of her in the same way.  Sydney’s face swam into her mind.  Whatever she did, she would never see Sydney again.  In fact, Sydney and Jack would probably have to “disappear” and be given new identities to protect them from KGB retaliation.

 

Sydney didn’t deserve this.  Jack didn’t deserve this.  And it was the KGB’s fault for getting them all into this mess.  She had long ago stopped feeling patriotism for her country; she had continued to pass information to the KGB only because there was no way out.  Now, though, there was a way out.  It would end in her death, but that didn’t matter.  She would talk.

 

Irina looked directly at Dawson and said, “I work for the KGB.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 6

 

Mark Dawson left the interrogation room and motioned to the CIA doctor that had been waiting.  After forty-five minutes of speaking to her, he was surprised to find himself with a growing respect for Irina Derevko.  She had answered all of his questions calmly and completely, and he never got the slightest hint that she was being anything less than truthful.  Although she hadn’t had an X-ray, the doctor believed that her right leg was badly broken, and Dawson could tell that she was in a great deal of pain, but she hadn’t even mentioned it.  He had left the room when she had grown pale and started shaking slightly, which he recognized as symptoms of shock.  He wanted to authorize a painkiller, but he needed her alert enough to talk.  Only for a little while longer, though; Jack Bristow should arrive soon, and then he would find out if the daring plan he had come up with had a chance of working.

 

***

 

“Daddy?”

 

Sydney had slept peacefully during the transfer to Arvin’s car and the ride, but she woke now as Jack lifted her from the back seat to take her into the Sloanes’ home.  “Sh, sweetie, go back to sleep,” he whispered.

 

Instead, she woke up a little further and looked around.  “Where are we, Daddy?”

 

“You’re going to stay with Aunt Emily tonight.”

 

“Do you have to go on a trip?  Where’s Mommy?  Put me down, I wanna walk.”

 

Jack sighed and put his daughter down on the driveway.  “I won’t be gone long, Sydney.  I just have to go pick up Mommy; she had some car trouble.”  There was no sense telling his daughter that her mother was injured, he thought; Sydney would just worry.

 

“Can I go with you?”

 

“No, Aunt Emily is looking forward to having you stay with her.  We wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

 

Emily Sloane opened the door of the house, and Sydney ran to her.  “Aunt Emily!” she cried.  “Do you have cookies for me?”

 

“Not this time, Sydney,” Emily said.  “I didn’t know you were coming until just a little while ago.  Besides, it’s past your bedtime.”

 

“I slept already.  Can we play Candyland?”

 

“How about a movie instead?” Emily said.  “Why don’t you go pick one out while I talk to your father.”  Sydney bounced off to the living room; she knew exactly where the Sloanes kept a half-dozen children’s videos for their favorite “niece”.  Emily turned to Jack.  “I’m so sorry about Laura,” she said.  “Tell her I’m thinking of her.  And I can watch Sydney as long as necessary.”

 

Jack nodded.  “Thank you, Emily.”  He gave her a hug.  “We should get going.”

 

A few minutes later, Jack realized that something was wrong when Arvin drove right past the turnoff for the hospital.  “Arvin, aren’t we going to the hospital?”

 

“Laura’s not at the hospital,” Sloane replied.

 

“What?  Why not?  What’s going on?”

 

“Jack, I’m sorry to have to tell you this…”  Arvin took a deep breath.  “Laura’s a spy.  She works for the KGB.”

 

Jack stared at his friend for a moment.  “Is this some kind of joke?  Because it’s not funny!”

 

“It’s not a joke, Jack.  We recorded her meeting with her KGB handler tonight.”  They had reached CIA headquarters; Arvin parked and got out of the car.  He went around to Jack’s side and opened the door.  Jack just sat there.  “You need to come inside, Jack.  Dawson wants you to hear the tape.”

 

Reluctantly, Jack got out of the car.  “So there was no accident?”

 

“There was a car crash.  We staged it in case the KGB is watching.”

 

They entered the building, and Jack hurried over to Dawson.  “Where is she?  Is she all right?  Laura is not working for the KGB!  Why would she do such a thing?  She loves me!”

 

“Jack, calm down,” Dawson said.  He led Jack over to a chair.  “Sit and listen.”  He played the tape of Laura’s meeting with her handler that had been recorded earlier.

 

Jack sat in shocked silence as the tape played.  When it finished, he started to cry.  “How long…when did she start…”

 

Dawson sat down facing him.  “She’s always worked for the KGB.  She was planted here more than ten years ago.  She was ordered to get close to you.”

 

“God…all of it…our whole marriage…was all staged?”

 

Dawson nodded.  “I’m sorry, Jack.  She’s admitted to everything.”

 

“I want to see her.”

 

“All right.”  Dawson led Jack to the room outside the one in which Laura was being held.  Jack moaned when he saw her through the one-way glass.  She was handcuffed to a chair, cut and bruised, her right leg stuck stiffly out in front of her, staring into space.  She didn’t look frightened, or angry, or worried, just resigned.  He sank down in a chair and put his head in his hands.  The woman who had always been his rock, his safe harbor, the one that kept him sane, was a lie.

 

*****

 

Chapter 7

 

The doctor motioned to Dawson that he wished to speak to him.  Glancing at Jack, Dawson pulled the doctor outside the room.

 

“She’s definitely in shock,” the doctor said.  “And from what she said she’s got at least one broken rib, probably several.  She needs to be in a hospital as soon as possible.”

 

Dawson nodded.  “I need to talk to her for just a little while longer.  Is there anything we can do for her now?”

 

“A blanket would help.  And some water.”

 

Dawson nodded.  He got a blanket and a Styrofoam cup half-full of water, then went into the interrogation room.  Irina’s head had fallen to the side, and her eyes were closed, but she opened them and lifted her head when she heard the door close.  The doctor was right, Dawson thought as he spread the blanket over her; she didn’t look good.  She looked surprised at the blanket, and even more so as he held the cup to her lips and let her sip some water.  As much as he hated treating anyone the way she’d been treated, it was probably better than the KGB treatment of their prisoners, he realized.

 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

 

“Do you love your daughter?” he asked abruptly.

 

A confused expression appeared on her face.  “More than anything.”

 

“More than the Soviet Union?”

 

“Mr. Dawson, if I still cared about the Soviet Union, our conversation a little while ago would have gone quite differently.”

 

He nodded.  “I have a proposition for you.  Assuming Jack agrees, of course.  He’s here, by the way.  He didn’t take the news well.”

 

She looked away.  “I didn’t think he would.”  She looked back at him suddenly.  “Wait.  If he’s here, where’s Sydney?”

 

“She’s safe,” Dawson said.  “I wouldn’t bring her here, but she’s protected.  In any case, as I said, I have a proposition for you.  Basically, we’ll make it look like this was just a random car accident, you’ll keep pretending to be Laura Bristow, and we’ll give you information to give to the KGB.  You won’t know what’s true and what’s not.  If you don’t agree, you’ll get the death penalty.  If you agree, you’ll get immunity as long as you’re helping us.”

 

She hesitated only briefly.  To go along with Dawson’s idea would mean betraying her country to a far greater degree than she already had tonight, but that didn’t matter.  She had already lost Jack; he undoubtedly hated her now, but that didn’t matter.  Sydney.  Sydney was the only important thing left.  “I’ll do it,” she said.  “But eventually the KGB will want to extract me.”

 

Dawson nodded.  “That’s why I’m also giving you an incentive to keep them in the dark as long as possible.  If they decide to extract you, we’ll do our best to pull you out first.  Then you’ll go to prison.  Right now, the sentence would be fifty years, but for every year you keep it up we’ll take five years off.  Pull it off for ten years and you get a full pardon.  Is that acceptable?”

 

Irina nodded.

 

“Good,” Dawson said.  “I’ll be back shortly.”  He walked out the door, leaving Irina alone again.

 

***

 

“You want me to…to take her home and pretend like nothing has happened?”  Jack Bristow was furious.  He had watched, although he couldn’t hear anything, as Dawson talked to his wife, who seemed quite calm to him, and his despair had grown into rage.  “I would much rather go in there right now and put a knife in her gut.  She lied to me for ten years!  And now I’m supposed to pretend that everything is normal?”

 

“Jack,” Dawson said quietly, “if you don’t, then you and your daughter will have to ‘disappear’ and get new identities.  And even then, there’s a pretty good chance of the KGB finding you.  Do you want to do that to Sydney?”

 

Jack stared at Dawson for a moment.  “You bastard.  You know exactly how to manipulate me, don’t you?  You couldn’t care less what happens to me and Sydney; all you see is your chance to pass false information to the KGB.”

 

“That’s not true, Jack.  Yes, passing false information is my primary goal, but you’re one of my best agents and I’d hate to lose you.  And you know I have three children myself; I’d hate to see anything happen to your daughter.”

 

Jack managed to control his rage enough to keep him from punching his boss.  “I want to talk to her,” he said.

 

“Just don’t hurt her; she’s in bad enough shape at the moment.”  Jack glared at him.  Dawson moved closer and said softly, “If you were to, say, hit her a few times where it doesn’t show once you get home, no one here would blame you.  But she’s already in bad shape at the moment; we’re transferring her to the hospital as soon as we’ve got this worked out.”

 

Jack nodded curtly and opened the door.

 

Irina looked up when she heard Jack enter.  He had his poker face on, but she could see anger in his eyes.  For the first time since they had met, she was afraid of him.  “Jack,” she said.

 

“Is it true?”

 

She dipped her head slightly.  “I’m sorry.”

 

He pulled the extra chair toward her and sat, leaning forward so that his face was only inches from hers.  “Dawson wants me to pretend that nothing happened.  I’m going to do it, but never, ever think for one second that I’m doing it for you.  It would have been better if you had died in that accident.  I’m doing this for Sydney, and only for Sydney.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered.

 

“Good.”  He stood and turned toward the door.

 

“I love you, Jack.”

 

Just another lie, he thought.  Without turning back to her, he walked out the door.

 

*****

 

Chapter 8

 

Jack watched, stone-faced, as Laura—or whatever her name was—was strapped to a stretcher and carried out.  She’d been given a sedative, and so he hadn’t had to avoid her eyes, which would no doubt appear to be full of pain.  How could he have been such a fool?  It had all been an act, and he had fallen for it, fallen in love with her, fallen so deeply that he wasn’t sure he could ever get himself out.  Not even now that the woman he loved had vanished like mist, only an illusion in the first place.

 

And now he had to pretend that nothing had changed, even though his world had been shattered.  Only in public, at least, he thought.  Unless…  He turned to Dawson, who had just come back from making sure that the spy was on her way to the hospital.  “Are there bugs in my house?”

 

Dawson shook his head.  “She said there weren’t.”

 

“And you believe her?  She fooled me for ten years into thinking she loved me, and you believe her when she says there are no bugs?  How do you know she’s not going to go running to the KGB the first chance she gets and laugh about how easy it is to deceive Americans?”

 

“I don’t, not for sure.  But I think she stopped being loyal to the KGB a long time ago, and just didn’t know how to get out.”  Jack just shook his head.  “I’ve been in this business a long time, Jack.  I’ve gotten pretty good at telling when people are lying to me.  I do believe her.”  He saw that Jack wasn’t going to be swayed, and sighed.  “We are, of course, going to keep an eye on her, just in case.  And by ‘we’, I mostly mean you.  Since we obviously can’t bring her down to headquarters every time we have questions, I’m assigning you as her CIA handler, Jack.”

 

Jack looked up sharply.  “You’re kidding, right?”

 

“Officially, she’s now a CIA agent working undercover.  You’re the most logical choice to be her handler.”

 

Jack crossed his arms over his chest.  “Fine,” he said.

 

“Good.  Going back to the bugs…”  Dawson handed Jack a briefcase.  “If you want to use them, that contains five bugs and recording equipment for them.  If you want, you can listen to what she’s doing when you’re not around; you’ll be the only one that has access to the recordings.  There’s also a bug detector in there, so you can scan the house for bugs just in case.  Just press the button on the top; if there are no bugs in a 20 foot radius, it will beep within thirty seconds.”

 

Jack took the briefcase.  “Good to see you’re not completely taken in.”

 

Dawson frowned.  “Jack, I’m going to ignore your insubordination due to the emotional evening you’ve had.  Now, Arvin is going to drive you to the hospital, where you will be a husband who’s very concerned for his injured wife.  I’m giving you the day off tomorrow.  Do you think you can handle that?”

 

Sydney, Jack thought.  For Sydney.  “Yes, I can handle that.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 9

 

When Jack reached the hospital, he was told that Laura was being X-rayed and that a doctor would be with him shortly.

 

“Do you want me to stay, Jack?” Arvin asked.

 

“Um, no, that’s all right.  I should probably stay here tonight.  I can take a cab home tomorrow,” Jack said.

 

“Do you want us to send Sydney to school?”

 

Jack thought for a moment.  If she didn’t go to school, she’d know there was something wrong, and she would probably just worry about her absent parents all day.  “Go ahead and send her to school.  Tell her I’ll pick her up afterwards.  I’ll tell her about the accident then.”

 

Arvin nodded.  He moved closer to Jack so that they wouldn’t be overheard in the empty, but still public, waiting room.  “Jack, I know this has got to be terrible for you.  I can’t even imagine…if Emily…anyway, if you need someone to talk to…”

 

Jack gave him a strained smile.  “Thanks, Arvin.”

 

A few minutes later, Sloane was gone, and Jack was left alone with his thoughts.

 

***

 

“Mr. Bristow?” An hour later, a doctor finally entered the waiting room.  “I’m Dr. Griffin.”

 

“Is she all right?”

 

The doctor nodded.  “She’s going to be off her feet for awhile, but she’ll be fine.  She broke her right tibia and fibula—that’s the two major bones in her lower leg.  She also broke three ribs on the right side.  She’s just getting settled into a room now.”

 

“Can I see her?”

 

“Of course.”  The doctor led Jack out of the waiting room.  “We gave her a good bit of pain medication, and she’s still sedated; she’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours.  She’s immobilized, and she’ll need to stay that way for a couple of days.  We’ll get some more X-rays on Sunday and see how things are going.”

 

“How long will she be in the hospital?”  Part of Jack hoped that it would be a long time.  He still wasn’t to the point where he could even begin to think rationally about what she had done to him, and he didn’t think he would trust himself at home alone with her at the moment.

 

“If things look good on Sunday, and if she can handle crutches, she might be able to go home on Monday.  That would be the earliest.”  Jack nodded.  They had arrived at a nurse’s station, and the doctor glanced at a clipboard.  “Dr. Nielson is on duty tomorrow morning; he’ll talk to you some more later.”  He turned to a nurse.  “Amy, this is Laura Bristow’s husband.  Could you show him to her room?”  Without another word, the doctor left.

 

The nurse led Jack into a dim room.  There was Laura, unconscious, her right leg in a cast and strapped up in a ridiculous contraption that left it hanging from the ceiling, an IV in her left arm.  She looked so small and vulnerable in the hospital bed that for a moment Jack completely forgot what she really was and only saw the woman he loved.

 

He was jolted back to reality by the nurse.  “Will you be staying tonight, Mr. Bristow?”

 

“Yes, if that’s all right.”

 

“Of course.”  She pointed out the nurse call button, and then left.

 

Jack pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down heavily.  He gazed at the woman in the bed.  He wanted to hate her.  But it wasn’t working.  He looked down and was surprised to see that he had gently taken Laura’s limp right hand in both of his own.

 

*****

 

Chapter 10

 

Laura moaned, startling Jack out of his half-doze.  He glanced at the clock to see that it was a little after three.  Two hours since he’d entered this room; the doctor had been right.  He steeled his expression and waited for her to wake.

 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head his way.  “Jack,” she murmured.  “You’re here.”  She sounded slightly surprised.

 

“I’m here because I’m pretending I care about you,” he answered coldly.  She flinched visibly.  He almost apologized, but caught himself just in time.

 

Irina turned her eyes back to the ceiling.  When she’d first seen him, she’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he might not hate her.  But his expression as he said those words had been cold steel.  She cursed herself for letting him see her pain.  She’d learned at a very young age how to hide the pain and present a cool, controlled face to the world, but she’d gotten out of practice in the last few years.  Ice, she told herself sternly.  “Where are we?”

 

“Stafford Naval Hospital,” he answered.  “So your…friends won’t be able to visit you.”

 

Thank God, Irina thought.  She tried to sit up a little and moaned.

 

“Are you in pain?” Jack asked quickly, sounding concerned.  He mentally cursed himself.  He might be having difficulty hating her, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to know that.

 

“No,” she lied.

 

“I’ll call the nurse.”

 

Amy came in and increased Laura’s pain medication; moments later, she fell asleep again.  Jack settled back in his chair.  It was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

At 7:47 a.m., the door to the hospital room opened and a new nurse entered.  “Good morning, Mr. Bristow.  I’m Nurse Reynolds.”  She went to the IV and adjusted it.  “Your wife should wake up in a few minutes, right about the time her breakfast gets here.  Everything all right?”  Jack nodded, and the woman left.

 

A few minutes later, just as Laura was opening her eyes, a cheery young woman entered with a tray.  “Breakfast time!” she said happily.  “Who would you rather have feed you, me or your husband?” she asked Laura.

 

Laura looked at Jack.  “I’ll feed her,” he said.  The aid looked uncertain; Jack glared at her, and she scurried out the door.

 

“Jack, could you call my school…”

 

“Already did,” he said.  He took the cover off the tray and grimaced.  As he knew from the time or two he’d been badly injured, meals were not among the naval hospital’s strengths.  He picked up the only utensil provided, a plastic spoon, and started to spoon up some scrambled eggs, but then thought better of it; her mouth was probably horribly dry.  He pushed the straw through the foil top of the orange juice container and held that to her lips instead.  She drank while watching him steadily.  Once she’d had enough to wet her mouth, he gave her a spoonful of eggs.

 

She made a face and swallowed only with effort.  “Those are the worst scrambled eggs I have ever tasted.”

 

Jack allowed himself a small grin.  “A little dry, are they?”

 

“Now I know why you always wanted me to sneak you food when you were here.  Is the rest of it this bad?”

 

“I wouldn’t touch the toast if I were you.  It’s drier than the eggs, if you can believe that.  I recommend forcing down as much of the eggs as you can stand and saving the fruit for last.  They somehow fail to ruin that.”

 

Laura smiled at that.  Then they made the mistake of meeting each other’s eyes; they realized simultaneously that they had just had a normal conversation.  They broke eye contact guiltily, and Jack finished feeding her in silence.

 

*****

 

Chapter 11

 

Jack finished feeding his wife the fruit and put the spoon down.  They sat in silence for a few minutes, studiously not looking at each other, until the aid came back in.  “All finished?” the young woman said happily.  Laura nodded, and the tray was taken away.

 

Another long moment of silence was broken when Jack’s stomach growled.  Laura turned her head toward him.  “You should go eat something.”

 

“A doctor’s supposed to come and talk to us this morning.”

 

“I’ll stall him until you get back.”

 

Jack hesitated.  What would she say to the doctor?  He looked at her.  “All right,” he said.  “This is your first test, so you’d better behave yourself.”

 

 She knew she had no right, but Irina felt herself getting rather annoyed.  “Jack, I can’t move anything except my head and right arm.  What exactly do you think I’m going to do?”

 

“You’ve already done enough damage just with your mouth.”  Anger welled up in him yet again, and he fought it down.  He couldn’t start yelling at her here, where sound might carry into the hall or someone might come in at any moment.  He turned away from her and looked out the window until he calmed down.  “I’ll be back soon,” he said, and left.

 

Once the door was closed, Irina finally allowed a few tears to trickle down her cheeks.

 

As luck would have it, the doctor chose that moment to enter the room.  “Mrs. Bristow?” he said.  “I’m Dr. Nielson.”  She tried to wipe away the tears with her hand, but of course he noticed.  He moved to the bedside and handed her a tissue.  “Are you all right?”

 

She did a slightly better job of getting rid of the tears with the tissue.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just a little upset…you know, not being able to move at all.”

 

The doctor nodded, but she could see that he didn’t believe her.  And why had he come in right then?  Her keen sense of paranoia, finely honed after ten years of living a double life, made her wonder if he had been waiting for Jack to leave.

 

“Mrs. Bristow, I just need to ask you a few questions about your past medical history.  I see from your X-rays that you’ve had quite a few previous broken bones.  Can you tell me about how that happened?”

 

Irina was surprised.  Laura’s back story was solidly ingrained in her memory, but didn’t include the many broken bones that Irina had had as a child.  She thought quickly.  “I was a very active child,” she said with what she hoped was a disarming smile, “and a rather clumsy one, I’m afraid.  I was rather bad about falling out of trees or off of fences.”

 

“I see.  Specifically, do you remember how you broke your right femur?”

 

How to explain that one?  Irina knew that the femur was rather difficult to break.  “I fell down the stairs,” she said.  When the doctor’s expression didn’t change, she added, “I was carrying a jar and dropped it, then tripped over it.  Like I said, I was pretty clumsy.”

 

“I see.  How long ago did this happen?”

 

Suddenly she realized the purpose of the doctor’s questions, and why he had waited until Jack left.  He thought that Jack might be abusing her!  She almost laughed at that.  “I was fifteen,” she said.  That, at least, was the truth.

 

The doctor looked at her for a moment.  Then he said, “Mrs. Bristow, do you feel safe at home?”

 

Other than the odd worries about KGB assassins breaking down the door…  “Of course,” she said.  “I can see what you’re trying to say, but my husband would never hurt me.”

 

“Is there anyone else that you’re afraid of?”

 

If you only knew, she thought.  “No,” she answered simply.  “Now, going on to what’s important at the moment, how long am I going to be stuck here?”

 

She could tell the doctor was still suspicious, but at least he knew when to quit.  He turned to her chart.  “We’ll take you in for some X-rays on Sunday morning.  If your ribs are starting to heal, you can try out some crutches, and if that goes okay, we’ll let you go late Sunday or early Monday.  Until then, though, I want you to stay as still as possible.”  She nodded.  “Do you work outside the home, Mrs. Bristow?”

 

“I’m a teacher at UCLA.”

 

He frowned.  “I’m sure you want to get back to your classroom, then,” he said, “but that’s going to have to wait a bit.  I want you to take all of next week off; if you’re off of pain medication and feeling all right, you can go back to work the following Monday.”

 

She sighed.  “And how long am I going to be in this cast?”

 

Jack came back into the room then, having just eaten a quick breakfast in the hospital cafeteria.  “Hello, Dr…”

 

“Dr. Nielson,” the doctor said, standing to shake his hand.  “You must be Mr. Bristow.”  Jack nodded.  “I was just telling your wife that she’ll need to stay here until Sunday evening at the earliest.  And she should stay home from work for a week after that.”  He turned back to Laura.  “As for the cast, that depends on how fast a healer you are.  We’ll see how you’re doing in four weeks; if you’re healing nicely, we’ll put you in a below-the-knee cast that will let you walk without crutches.  You’ll also be able to drive once you get the long cast off.  Any questions?”  They both shook their heads, and the doctor left, leaving husband and wife once more with a gulf of silence between them.

 

*****

 

Chapter 12

 

Jack stayed with his wife until lunchtime and fed her; then he announced that he was going home.  “I told Arvin to tell Sydney that I’d pick her up at school.  I’m sure she’ll want to see you; children’s visiting hours are from four to six, so I’ll bring her in somewhere in there.”  His tone clearly told Irina that he was not in favor of the idea of bringing Sydney in.

 

Irina sighed.  “Jack, despite what you may think, I do love Sydney, more than anything, and I would never want to do anything to hurt her.”

 

Jack turned away and tried once again to keep from shouting at her.  He remembered the tape he’d listened to the night before; she’d never been supposed to have a child.  He remembered something else now, too—a clue that he’d missed at the time that Laura wasn’t all she should be.

 

***

 

September 1974

 

Laura had seemed rather down for the last few weeks, and Jack had planned a surprise to cheer her up.  It was the Friday before Labor Day, and he’d made reservations at a bed-and-breakfast about an hour away.  He’d managed to get away a little early on Friday and had hurried home, excited and ready to tell her to pack her bags.

 

She’d been on the phone when he’d gotten there; he hadn’t been trying to sneak or anything, but she didn’t acknowledge his presence in the kitchen.  So he waited and listened to her side of the conversation.  “I am?  Are you sure?”  A pause.  “Yes, Thursday morning at nine will be fine.  Thank you, doctor.”  She’d hung up the phone and just stood there for a moment.  Then her shoulders had started to shake.

 

“Laura?” Jack said.  She jumped, but didn’t turn around.  He hurried forward and wrapped his arms around her.  “Laura, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”  Was she sick?  Why had she been talking to a doctor?

 

She twisted in his arms and buried her head in his shoulder without ever giving him a chance to see her face.  He felt a damp spot on his shirt slowly spreading.  She mumbled something.  “What?”

 

She pulled back just enough to speak clearly.  “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.  “We’re going to have a baby.”

 

A baby?  His dread quickly changed to joy.  A baby!  So why was Laura crying?  He stroked her hair.  “Honey, this is a good thing, right?  I mean, we always said we wanted a child one day.”

 

She finally looked at him, smiling but with tears still streaming down her face.  “I know, I just…it’s a surprise, and I’m happy and worried and…everything, you know, all at the same time.  I’m afraid I…that I won’t be a good mother.”

 

He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.  “Oh, Laura, you’ll make a wonderful mother, and I love you so much.  There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

***

 

In all the years that followed, Jack had never quite understood why she’d cried that day.  Now, finally, he did.  He turned around and looked at her.  “You were never supposed to have a child.  She was just an ‘accident’.  It’s too bad I was there when you found out, wasn’t it?  That’s why you were crying.  Because I knew, and so you couldn’t just get rid of it.  You don’t deserve to be a mother.”  He saw her shoulders start to shake, knew that she was starting to cry, but told himself that he didn’t care.  Without another word, he left the room.

 

*****

 

Chapter 13

 

In the back of a cab on the way home, Jack found himself doing the thing he’d been trying to avoid all night: thinking.  He’d told her that she was crying because he’d found out about her pregnancy, but as he ran over the memory in his mind he realized that she had been crying before she knew he was there.  What could that mean?  When he’d been thinking at all over the past fourteen-odd hours, which hadn’t been much, he’d been trying to face the idea that she was nothing but a cold-hearted Russian spy.  If that were true, though, an inadvertent pregnancy that her target didn’t know about could hardly be too much of a problem; an abortion would have been a quick and easy fix.  So what was she thinking when she started crying?  Was it really worries that she wouldn’t be a good mother?

 

And how did she really feel about Sydney?  He’d never seen any sign that she didn’t love her daughter, but then, he’d missed the signs that she didn’t love him.  He made a mental note to talk to Sydney and try to figure out if her mother treated her any differently when he wasn’t there.

 

Suddenly, he realized with horror that his daughter had spent a large portion of her life alone with a KGB agent.  What had Laura done to their daughter?  Had she taught Sydney to keep secrets from her father, turned her against the U.S.?  No.  He wouldn’t, couldn’t face that possibility.

 

The cab had arrived; Jack paid the driver and got out.  First things first, he found the bug detector and checked each room.  The house was clean.  Next, he carefully hid the bugs Dawson had given him: kitchen, living room, den, the third bedroom that both he and Laura used as a study.  He rejected his own room as the location for the fifth bug; Laura wasn’t likely to do much talking there unless he was there too.  Finally, with some trepidation, he hid the last bug in Sydney’s room.

 

Shutting down his thoughts once again, he showered and had some lunch.  But then he looked at his watch and discovered that he still had forty minutes before it would be time to pick Sydney up.  He washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away; still twenty-five minutes.  The silence of the house struck him, and he realized how rare it was for him to be in the house alone; the closest he usually got was after Sydney was in bed on nights when Laura had choir practice or evening classes.

 

That was something else that didn’t fit with the cold-hearted spy image, he thought.  If Laura’s goal was just to spy on him, then why was she in the church choir?  And why was she working on a master’s degree in English literature?  It could just be an excuse to meet her handler, he thought, but just one of those activities would have sufficed.  So why both?

 

Graduate school made sense with the persona she’d been cultivating since she’d met him, he thought—a literature lover with her nose always in a book, someone who’d actually enjoyed going to college classes and writing papers.  But he’d been surprised—no, shocked—four years ago when she’d told him that Emily Sloane had invited her to join the church choir and she’d accepted.  The two of them had never even gone into a church together; they’d been married in a civil ceremony.  And he’d never heard her sing.  Not once.  He’d caught her humming a few times, but she’d always stopped as soon as she knew he was there.  He’d teased her many times during the last four years, trying to get her to sing for him, but she always refused.  If her being in the choir hadn’t made any sense before, it made even less sense now that he knew what her real purpose in life was.

 

He suddenly wondered what it had been like for her, to leave her home, her family, everything to go into the country of her enemies and get close to a man she knew nothing about.  She’d been nineteen when he’d met her; even if she was lying about her age, she couldn’t have been much older.  Was it possible that she was sincere, that she didn’t care about Russia anymore?  She had lived in America basically her entire adult life.  Was it even possible that maybe she had really fallen in love with him?

 

He’d been terrible to her, he realized.  She was already injured and in physical pain, and no matter how disconnected she’d become from her country, it still had to hurt to betray it.  And if she did love him—or even if she didn’t—the awful things he’d said must have made the situation even worse.

 

But still, she’d lied to him.  Fooled him for ten years into thinking she was someone she wasn’t.  If she’d told him on her own, if she’d turned herself in to the CIA, it might have been different, he thought.  Or even if he’d been the one to catch her.  But he had had no idea.  She had made a fool of him, and that was what he couldn’t forgive her for.

 

He glanced at the clock.  It was time to go pick up Sydney.

 

*****

 

Chapter 14

 

“Hi, Daddy,” Sydney said cheerfully, climbing into the passenger seat of the car.  “How come you’re driving Mommy’s car?”

 

“My car is getting fixed,” Jack said.  “Buckle your seatbelt, honey.”  She did, and he started to pull away from the curb.  The car stalled.  He started the engine again, cursing inwardly—he’d forgotten about the transmission problems.  He also realized that he had no idea what had happened to his car, the one that Laura had been driving last night.

 

“Where’s Mommy?” Sydney asked as Jack finally got the car on the road.  “I have to tell her what I want to be for Halloween.”

 

Jack glanced over at his daughter.  He’d wanted to wait until they were home to tell her about the accident.  They only lived half a mile from Sydney’s elementary school, though, so he ought to be able to stall her.  “What do you want to be for Halloween?”

 

“I can’t tell you!  I’m ‘sposed to surprise you, remember?”

 

Of course, Jack thought.  Every year since Sydney had been born, Laura had taken responsibility for dressing her up and surprised him with the costume.  “Well, Sydney, this year might have to be a little bit different.”  He pulled into the garage.

 

“How come?”  Sydney asked as she got out.  Without waiting for a response, she went into the house and called, “Mommy?  I’m home!”

 

“Mommy’s not here, Sydney,” Jack said as he came in behind her.  He picked up Sydney’s carelessly dropped backpack and put it on the kitchen table, then sat down.  “Do you remember last winter when I got hurt on one of my trips and had to stay in the hospital for a few days?”

 

“Yes,” Sydney said, suddenly looking rather excited.  Jack couldn’t fathom why, until she continued in a rush.  “Is Mommy in the hospital?  Is she going to bring home a baby?  Tommy at school said his mommy was in the hospital and brought home a baby brother.  I want a sister, though.  Can you ask them for a girl?”

 

Jack couldn’t help smiling.  “No, Sydney, Mommy’s not bringing home a baby.  She got hurt in a car accident last night, and so she has to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

 

“Oh.”  Sydney frowned for a moment.  “When’s she coming home?  Can I go see her?  What about my Halloween costume?  Who’s going to make dinner?”  She climbed into Jack’s lap.

 

“She’ll probably come home while you’re at school on Monday, we’ll go and see her a little later, we’ll figure out something for your Halloween costume, and we’ll get a pizza for dinner,” Jack said, knowing from experience that Sydney wouldn’t give up until each of her questions had been answered.  “Now, do you want a snack?”

 

“No, I want to go see Mommy right now,” Sydney said, sliding off his lap.  “Let’s go.”

 

“Okay, but let’s pick out some books for Mommy to read before we go.”  He went upstairs with her. 

 

She ran into the extra bedroom and began perusing the bookshelves.  “War and Peace,” she read.  “We should take her this one.  It’ll take her a long time so she won’t get bored.”

 

“No, let’s bring her three or four short ones,” Jack said.  Laura’s left arm was out of commission due to the IV line, so smaller books would be easier for her to handle, he thought.  “Sydney, while I’m gone on a trip, does Mommy act any different than she does when I’m home?” he asked as Sydney turned back to the bookshelves.

 

“Yeah,” Sydney said nonchalantly, and Jack’s stomach dropped into his feet. 

 

“What kinds of things does Mommy do differently when I’m not here?”

 

Sydney shrugged.  “She’s sad when you’re gone.  And she always checks my homework, every night.  She only does it sometimes when you’re home.”  She pulled out a thin book.  “Frankenstein.  Daddy, you should be Frankenstein for Halloween.  That would be funny.”  Jack didn’t bother to try to explain that Frankenstein wasn’t the name of the monster; he was too busy thinking about Sydney’s words.  At least she hadn’t said she was getting Russian lessons.  “Flowers for…umm…”  Sydney paused as she sounded it out.  “Algernon.  Is that right, Daddy?”

 

“Yeah, Sydney.”  He grabbed Silas Marner and Pride and Prejudice from the upper shelves.  “Okay, you’ve got two and I’ve got two.  I think that’ll be enough.”

 

“What’s an Algernon?” Sydney asked as they went downstairs.

 

Jack had never read the book.  “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your mother.”  He and Sydney got into the car and headed toward the hospital.

 

*****

 

Chapter 15

 

Jack carried the books in one hand and held Sydney’s hand with the other as they walked into Laura’s hospital room.  She was asleep, but Jack didn’t even get a chance to tell Sydney to be quiet.

 

“Mommy!” Sydney cried as she dropped Jack’s hand to run forward and grab her mother’s.

 

Laura woke up immediately and turned to smile sleepily at Sydney.  “Hi, sweetheart,” she said.

 

“Were you taking a nap, Mommy?”

 

“Yes, but I’m glad you woke me up.  I wanted to see you.”

 

“How come this tube’s going in your arm, Mommy?” Sydney asked, reaching to touch the IV line.

 

Jack came forward quickly.  “Sydney, honey, don’t touch that.  Let’s go around to the other side.”  He shepherded her around the bed.

 

“How come you’ve got a cast?  Did you break your leg?  Can I draw on your cast?”

 

“Yes, Sydney, I broke my leg, and you can draw on the cast all you want when I get home.”

 

“Daddy and me brought you some books to read.  I picked out two of them.  I wanted to bring you a big fat one so you wouldn’t get bored, but Daddy said only little ones.”

 

“Daddy and I, honey.”  She looked up and smiled at Jack.  “Thank you for the books.”  Jack’s neutral expression didn’t change as he nodded and put the books on the stand beside the bed.  Laura looked back at Sydney.  “How was school today?”

 

“There were these two third graders that got in a big fight at recess, and they were punching each other and everything, and the teacher had to come and make them stop and they got sent to the principal’s office.  And today was library day, so I got some new books.”  She leaned in closer to her mother, but Jack clearly heard her loud whisper.  “Mommy, what about my Halloween costume?  I want to be a…”  She stopped and turned to look at Jack.  “Daddy, go away so I can tell Mommy about my costume.”

 

Jack hesitated.  Sydney glared at him impatiently, and Laura mouthed, “Just go.”

 

He didn’t really have a choice, he decided.  “I’ll be right outside.”  He went into the hallway, leaving the door open a crack.

 

A moment later, Sydney poked her head out.  “Daddy, stop trying to listen!”  She slammed the door shut. 

 

Jack sighed.  He looked around for a moment, but the hospital hallway was just not that interesting.  He noticed Laura’s chart on the wall, though, and he picked it up and flipped through it.  Heart rates, blood pressures, medication dosages—it was all rather unexciting…until he found the doctor’s notes from that morning.

 

“Patient’s X-rays indicate at least seventeen prior fractures of the limbs, including a severe right femoral fracture.  When asked, patient indicated that the fractures were due to “clumsiness” as a child.  She emphatically denied the possibility of abuse by her husband.  Will follow up with further interview on Sunday.”

 

Jack read the short paragraph three times.  Laura had never mentioned that part of the conversation.  She had also never mentioned having broken bones.  Clumsiness? he thought.  Not a chance.  Laura moved like a cat, always conscious of exactly where every part of her body was at all times.  She must have been lying to the doctor.

 

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts.  “Okay, Daddy, you can come back in now,” Sydney said.

 

He slipped the chart back into its holder and went back in the room, adding “broken bones” to his mental list of things to ask Laura when they got home.  He really should start writing them down.  “Have you got the Halloween costume worked out?”

 

“I tried to convince her to let you get her costume, but she wouldn’t hear of it,” Laura said with a grin.  “So, can you take us to K-Mart on Monday night?”

 

“And wait in the car, and don’t peek!” Sydney said.

 

Jack had to smile.  He’d never thought that Sydney had her teeth this deeply in the Halloween tradition.  “Sure, that should be fine.”  He noticed Laura yawning as he said that.  “Well, Sydney, are you about ready to go home and have dinner?”

 

“When can we come back?”

 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Jack said.

 

“Okay,” Sydney said.  “Mommy, Daddy said we’re getting pizza for dinner.”

 

“Well, that will be fun,” Laura said.

 

Jack started to leave, but Sydney spoke up.  “Daddy, aren’t you going to kiss Mommy goodnight?”

 

Damn.  “Of course, sweetheart,” he said.  He moved to the bedside.  He meant to give Laura a quick peck, but was thoroughly surprised when the kiss lasted a good couple of seconds.  He pulled back, met her eyes briefly, and then looked away.  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he muttered.  “Um, is there anything you want me to bring?”

 

“A hairbrush would be nice.”  Jack nodded and took Sydney’s hand.  Sydney waved as they left.  Laura watched them go with a smile.  Jack Bristow was not one to express his feelings verbally, but his actions always spoke clearly.  The fact that he had thought to bring the books said a lot, and the kiss…well, it didn’t hold a candle to some of the kisses of the past, but it was definitely a good start.  Maybe she would get her husband back after all.

 

*****

 

Chapter 16

 

Jack rang the Sloanes’ doorbell on Saturday morning, trying to ignore Sydney dancing impatiently beside him.  “Aunt Emily!” she squealed when Emily finally opened the door.

 

Emily smiled.  “Come on in, Sydney, I’ve got cookies for you in the kitchen.”

 

“You’re spoiling her,” Jack said.

 

“That’s my prerogative as her godmother,” Emily replied with a grin.  Then her expression got more serious.  “I told him he shouldn’t be bothering you with work, but Arvin needs to talk to you.  He’s in his study.”

 

“Thank you, Emily.”  She nodded and took Sydney into the kitchen.  Jack sighed and knocked on the door of Arvin’s study.

 

“Come in, Jack,” Arvin called.  Jack entered to see Arvin standing by his desk, looking serious.  “I made the mistake yesterday of mentioning to Dawson that I would see you this weekend, so of course he had a message for you.”  He handed Jack a briefcase.  “He wants you to try Twilight on Laura when she gets home.  He said not to come in on Monday; he wants you to do it while Sydney’s at school.”

 

“Twilight?  Is he crazy?”  Jack was shocked.  “I thought the procedure was still considered too experimental to do outside of a controlled environment.  Besides, what makes him think she’ll let me?”

 

“The data from the last round of tests came in yesterday, and there are no signs of any problems.  And she’ll cooperate if she’s sincere.”  Arvin shrugged.  “I’m not sure I agree with it either, but if it works at least we’ll know for sure that she’s on our side.  There’s a list of questions in there that Dawson wants you to ask her.  He said to tell you that of course you’re welcome to ask her anything else you want to know while she’s under.  Oh, and you’ll need to give her a pregnancy test; there’s one in the briefcase.  No go if it’s positive.”

 

Jack sighed.  “You heard her talking to her handler, Arvin.  All these years we’ve supposedly been trying to have a second child, she’s been taking pills.  She’s not pregnant.”  Jack was silent for a moment as another realization dawned.  “Oh, God,” he whispered.

 

“Jack?”

 

“The miscarriage.”  Arvin nodded, remembering the miscarriage that Laura had suffered three years ago, three months into her pregnancy.  “Do you think…could she have done it?”

 

“I think that’s something you should ask her,” Arvin said quietly.  “But Jack, if she did, I doubt she had a choice.”

 

“Arvin…God…if she killed our child…”

 

“Jack, sit down,” Arvin said.  He led Jack to a chair and all but forced him into it, then sat down facing him.  “Do you remember how upset she was?  Even I could see it.  It took her months to get over losing that baby.  If she did cause the miscarriage, she suffered for it.”

 

“She could have been faking.”

 

“Do you really think anyone could fake that kind of grief?”

 

Jack thought back, remembering how she had sobbed for hours until she’d finally fall asleep, how she’d barely eaten anything for weeks.  Jack hadn’t known what to do for her, lost in his own grief.  It had been Sydney that had brought her back.  The three-year-old would climb into her mother’s lap and hug and kiss her until she finally stopped crying.  Laura had eventually started to smile again, but it had taken a long time.  Could it have been anything but real?

 

Jack stood and grabbed the briefcase.  “I need to go talk to her,” he said.

 

Arvin nodded.  “Emily and I will bring Sydney about five o’clock.”

 

“Thank you, Arvin,” Jack said, and left.

 

*****

 

Chapter 17

 

Jack opened the door to the hospital room as silently as possible; Laura looked up from her book with a jump when he stepped in.  “Jack!  You startled me.”

 

“I was expecting you to be asleep,” Jack replied as he shut the door behind him.

 

“I convinced the nurse to turn down my pain medication.  I was tired of only being able to stay awake for fifteen minutes at a time.  Is Sydney with the Sloanes?”  As she spoke, she closed the book and put it on the table.

 

God, Jack thought.  It was ten o’clock in the morning; he’d been hoping she would be asleep for at least six of the next seven hours.  “Yes, she’s probably stuffing herself on cookies right now,” he said in answer to Laura’s question.  He walked around the bed and looked out the window; unfortunately, the view was the same as it had been the day before.

 

Although he wasn’t looking at her, he could hear the smile in her voice.  “Well, without grandparents around, someone’s got to spoil her.”

 

Jack nodded without turning.  His father had died eight years ago, and he barely communicated with his mother.  They sent her a Christmas card every year, but rarely heard back.  She had never seen Sydney.  And Laura had told him that her parents had died in a car accident a year before he met her.  He turned around abruptly.  “I’m guessing that your parents didn’t die in a car accident.”

 

“No,” she answered calmly.  She’d been wondering when he was going to start asking questions; she’d been afraid that he would try to put all the pieces of the puzzle together himself and come up with something warped and twisted.  She hadn’t wanted to volunteer, though; he needed to deal with this at his own pace, as hard as it was for her to watch.

 

“Are they alive, then?”  He moved to the bedside chair and sat down.

 

“My mother died when I was nine.  My father…”  She broke eye contact.  “We didn’t get along.  I don’t know whether he’s still alive.”

 

Jack could clearly hear the bitterness in her voice when she spoke about her father.  He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder; she turned her head back to him, surprised.  “I guess now I understand why you never mentioned your parents,” he said as he pulled his hand back.

 

Laura stared at him for a moment with an expression he couldn’t read.  Then she smiled slightly and changed the subject.  “So how is Sydney doing?  She seemed all right last night.”

 

Jack nodded.  “She’s doing all right.  Although apparently my bedtime story-reading skills are not up to her high standards.”  He paused for a moment.  He’d listened closely to Sydney’s chatter last night and this morning, and had been surprised at how omnipresent Laura was in everything Sydney talked about.  Sydney was obviously very close to her mother; he had known that before, of course, but now that knowledge took on a whole new meaning.  “Laura…I…”  He wanted to apologize for saying she didn’t deserve to be a mother, knew it had been a horribly cruel thing to say, but…what if she had killed their baby?  “Laura, when you had the miscarriage, did you…”  He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

 

Laura’s eyes filled with tears and with the same raw pain that had been there three years ago.  Her shoulders started to shake as tears spilled down her cheeks.  She kept looking at him, though.  Hesitantly, he reached out his hand, and she grasped it tightly in her own.  He wanted to know what had happened, but he could hardly stand to see her in such pain.  “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said softly.

 

She swallowed hard and managed to slow the tears to a mere trickle.  “No, Jack.  You deserve to know what happened.”  She broke eye contact briefly, but then looked at him again.  She tugged at his hand slightly, and he pulled his chair as close to the bed as he could get it.  She spoke too softly for anyone who might happen to open the door to overhear.  “There were never supposed to be any children.  When I got pregnant with Sydney, I was so afraid that they would make me have an abortion.  I didn’t tell my handler until I started showing.  He was furious.”  She paused and looked away, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  She turned back.  “I managed to convince the KGB to let me keep the baby, mostly because the doctors would have been suspicious if I’d had a miscarriage that late.  But they weren’t happy with me.  My handler made it clear that if I got pregnant again and didn’t tell him right away, there would be dire consequences.  Not just to me, but to Sydney.”

 

“So when you got pregnant again, you told him,” Jack said.

 

She nodded.  “I didn’t have a meeting with him from the time I found out until I was two and a half months pregnant.  I was hoping that maybe they’d think that one more baby wouldn’t make a difference.  I told him that you wanted two children, that if I had this baby I could stop hiding the birth control pills.  He got in touch with Moscow, and a week later he gave me some pills to take that would cause a miscarriage.”  Jack stared at her, horrified, and her eyes filled with tears again.  “I couldn’t take them, Jack.  Three times, I sat in the bathroom for over an hour just staring at them, but I couldn’t do it.”  Jack let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “But they were watching me.  When a week went by and nothing happened…”

 

“God.  They slipped you something,” Jack said.  “At the restaurant?”  She nodded.  They were both quiet for a moment, remembering.  Jack had been ecstatic about the pregnancy ever since he’d found out; Laura had been quiet and moody, but he hadn’t been worried.  She’d been that way the first half of her pregnancy with Sydney, but had suddenly shifted to glowing and happy at about five months; he’d chalked it up to hormones.  He’d taken her out to dinner that Friday night and tried to cheer her up, but she’d picked at her food and barely talked to him.  Now he understood why.  They’d gone to bed in silence that night, but he’d been awakened four hours later to the sound of her screams and blood all over the sheets.

 

The door opened suddenly, making them both jump.  “How are you doing, Mrs. Bristow?” the nurse asked as she entered.  “Sure you don’t want me to bump your medicine back up?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” Laura said, pulling her hand from Jack’s and trying to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

 

The nurse looked at her for a moment.  “You don’t look fine,” she said.  She turned a disapproving look toward Jack.  “You don’t upset my patient, now.  She needs her rest.”  She checked Laura’s vitals.  “Your heart rate’s a little high, honey.  I think I’d better turn your medicine back up.”  Laura frowned but didn’t say anything.  The nurse adjusted the IV and left without another word.

 

Laura turned to Jack.  “We’ve got about sixty seconds before I can’t keep my eyes open,” she said.

 

Jack took her hand again and squeezed it.  “It’s all right.  Get some sleep,” he said.  “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”  She smiled at him, and he surprised himself by smiling back.  He kept his hold on her hand and watched as she fell asleep.

 

*****

 

Chapter 18

 

The nurse woke Laura up for lunch, and Jack fed her in silence without either one of them really looking at each other.  When the nurse returned afterwards to turn the pain medication back up, Laura stopped her.  “I don’t want any more medication,” she said.  The nurse looked at her with raised eyebrows.  “I have been asleep almost all of the past thirty-six hours, I am not in pain, and I do not want that medicine turned back up.”  Laura’s tone brooked no argument.

 

The nurse turned to Jack.  “I don’t suppose you could talk some sense into your wife.”

 

Jack debated for a moment which side to come down on.  He would just as soon not have Laura awake for the next five hours, but, then again, he wasn’t very fond of the nurse.  He made his decision.  “She seems perfectly sensible already,” he said.  “And I do believe she is more qualified to determine whether she’s in pain or not than you are.”

 

The nurse shrugged.  “Fine.  You know where the call button is if you change your mind.”  She turned and stalked out of the room.

 

Laura turned to Jack.  “Thank you,” she said.

 

“You didn’t really need my help,” Jack responded.  “I thought you handled that quite nicely.”

 

Laura grinned slightly.  “I swear, I think they prefer to keep their patients in a state of drugged unconsciousness whether they need it or not.”

 

“I’m sure they do.  Easier on them that way.”

 

They were quiet for a moment.  Then Laura said, “Have you had lunch?”

 

Jack shook his head.  “Sydney and I went to IHOP for breakfast.  I’m still full.”

 

Laura sighed.  “Pizza last night, pancakes this morning, I’m sure Emily is feeding her cookies as we speak…feed her some vegetables tonight, Jack.”

 

He looked at her for a moment.  “You really do care about her,” he said softly, admitting it to himself for the first time.

 

She met his eyes, and he saw a hint of anger.  “Of course I care about her!  God, Jack, I fought the whole damn KGB to be allowed to have her, carried her in my body for nine months.  I’m her mother, and I’ve never had to lie about that.”

 

Jack didn’t know what to say.  He suddenly felt bad for doubting her, but then reminded himself that she was a Russian spy, that she’d lied about everything else.  One truth didn’t make up for all the lies.  He wondered, though, whether there was more truth buried in the lies.  She loved her child, he believed that, but how did she truly feel about that child’s father?  Just asking her would be pointless—he knew what her answer would be, he just didn’t know whether to believe it or not.

 

“Jack?”

 

He was jolted out of his thoughts to see Laura looking at him worriedly.  “I…”  He started to apologize, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words.  “I brought your hairbrush,” he said instead, pulling it from his briefcase and handing it to her.

 

“Thanks,” she said.  She put it down on her lap and struggled to get her hair to where she could reach it.

 

“Here, let me,” Jack said.  He stood and gently pulled her hair over her right shoulder, then picked up the brush.  “May I?”

 

“I’d like that,” she said with a smile.  He began to carefully brush out her hair.

 

*****

 

Chapter 19

 

Jack finished brushing her hair and put the brush down.  He debated whether to start asking her questions.  Asking her about the miscarriage had been a risk, but he hadn’t felt like he could wait another day or two for the answer to that particular question.  Well, as long as they kept their voices down and kept an eye on the door, it should be all right, he thought.  He pulled his chair close to her bed and sat down.  “What’s your real name?”

 

She looked at him, surprised by the suddenness of his question.  “Dawson didn’t tell you?”

 

“I heard it on the tape, but I wasn’t exactly in a condition to be remembering details.”

 

Irina was confused.  What tape?  She had no idea exactly how she’d been found out, although she suspected it had something to do with Igor’s death.  But she’d known the other night that trying to figure out how she was discovered would be met with suspicion.  And now she was far more concerned with helping Jack through this as best she could than with finding out.  She pushed thoughts of the mysterious tape aside.  “My name is Irina,” she said softly.

 

“Irina,” he repeated, just as softly.  Her eyes threatened to tear up at hearing her name said like that.  Even after all she had put him through in the last two days, he still said her name with more tenderness than she had heard since her mother had died.  “Do you want me to call you that?”

 

As much as she loved hearing her “real” name from his lips, the danger of a slip was far too great.  Besides, after ten years, the name Laura was just as real.  “No, Laura is fine,” she said.

 

“So you’re Russian?”  She nodded.  “Where in Russia are you from?”  He tried to keep his tone light and pretend this was just a casual conversation.  In a way, he was meeting this woman for the first time.

 

For her part, Irina felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  To actually be able to tell the truth, completely, was an amazing feeling.  For so long, she had lied to everyone.  Even with her handler she couldn’t tell the truth, as she had to pretend that she cared nothing for Jack and Sydney.  “Moscow,” she said.  “My parents were originally from Stalingrad, but they moved to Moscow shortly after they were married.”

 

“Do you have any siblings?”

 

“None that lived.”  Jack’s expression told her to go on.  “My mother had three miscarriages that I can remember.  She had a baby when I was five, but he died when he was a little less than a year old.”  She smiled slightly, remembering the tiny little brother that her mother had taught her to care for.  “His name was Vanya.  The Russian form of Jack.”

 

“How ironic.”  He was quiet for a moment.  “How did he die?”

 

***

 

“Vanya, shhh, stop crying,” the six-year-old whispered to the small child in her lap.  “Papa will be home soon.  He won’t like it if you’re crying.”

 

Mama looked up from the dress she was sewing.  “He is crying because his belly is empty, Irochka,” she said.  “I’ll have this dress done tomorrow, and I’ll take it to the woman who ordered it, and she will give me money to buy bread for you and Vanya.”

 

“When I was little, did I cry when my belly was empty, Mama?”

 

Mama looked sad.  “Your belly was not empty as often, my dear Irina,” she said.  “Times were better then, and your Papa gave me enough money to buy food for you.”

 

“You mean he didn’t spend it all on vodka,” Irina said petulantly.

 

“Your father is a good man.  He drinks only because his life is hard.”

 

Even at her young age, Irina could hear the doubt in her mother’s voice.  But she didn’t have time to dwell on it as the door opened and Papa came in.  “Can’t you shut that baby up?” he yelled, and Irina winced.  Papa must have been paid today, for he was already drunk.  His gaze fell on her.  “Irina!  Don’t just sit there, quiet that baby!”

 

She shifted the baby to her shoulder and swayed back and forth on her stool, trying to quiet him.  He only cried louder.

 

Papa crossed the room in two strides and pulled Vanya from her arms.  “I’ll quiet him,” he grunted.

 

Mama dropped the dress and stood.  “Boris, no!” she cried.  “Let me do it.”

 

Ignoring her, Papa started to shake the baby.  “Quiet, you brat!” he yelled.  Mama reached him and tried to pull Vanya away from him, but he kept shaking the baby with one arm and used the other to push Mama away.  She fell to the floor in a heap, crying.

 

Irina stood.  “I’ll take him outside, Papa.  Please don’t shake him.”

 

Papa suddenly stopped shaking Vanya and practically dropped him in Mama’s lap, then grabbed Irina by the arm.  “Don’t talk back to me, little girl,” he said.  “You’ve got to learn your place.”  He twisted her arm behind her back until she screamed in pain, then let her go and stomped into the small bedroom.

 

Irina crawled over to Mama.  “Is Vanya all right?  Did Papa hurt him?”

 

Mama looked at her sadly.  “Yes, honey, he’s sleeping now.”

 

“Natalia!”  Papa roared from the bedroom.  “Get in here!”

 

“Put him to bed,” Mama whispered quickly, then got up and scurried in to Papa.

 

Irina looked at her throbbing arm and wiggled her fingers.  She didn’t think it was broken this time.  She carefully picked up Vanya from the floor and carried him back to her stool.  She watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, and…stop.  She stared at her baby brother dumbly for a moment.  “Vanya?  Vanya, wake up!”  She wiggled his arm, but he didn’t move.  She started screaming.

 

***

 

“Laura?  Laura, are you all right?”

 

Irina looked at Jack with shock.  “I…”

 

“Laura, good God, you scared me.  You just blanked out.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  Suddenly she was craving that drug-induced sleep that she had so despised a short time ago.  She’d tried so hard to forget her father, that beast she had grown up with…  “I think I might need that pain medicine after all.”

 

Jack looked at her with concern.  He didn’t know what to say, though, so he simply called the nurse.  A few minutes later, she was asleep once again.

 

*****

 

Chapter 20

 

Jack sat and watched his sleeping wife for quite awhile.  In his work he had encountered enough traumatized people to know a traumatic flashback when he saw one, but until recently Laura was the last person he would have expected to have one.  Obviously the normal middle-class childhood in a suburb of Baltimore she’d told him about had been a KGB fabrication.

 

Laura moaned, startling him.  He looked up at her as she moaned again.  She must be having a nightmare; he didn’t remember her having a vocal nightmare in a couple of years.  She’d had them often in the early years of their marriage, but they’d decreased in frequency since then; he’d always believed that they had something to do with her parents’ deaths.  She always claimed when she woke that she couldn’t remember.  He’d never believed her, but had respected her wish not to talk about them.

 

She cried out again, louder this time, and he stood and leaned over her.  When she’d started having nightmares again after the miscarriage, he’d stumbled upon a surefire way to calm her; he wondered if it would work now.  He waited until she moaned again, then took her head in his hands and kissed her gently as he stroked the sides of her face.  As it had before, it worked like a charm, and she relaxed into quiet sleep again.

 

He stood and went to the window.  No, the view still hadn’t changed; he was still looking at another wing of the hospital.  He went back to the chair and sat down again, then picked up one of the books.  The horrible grammar and spelling in the first paragraph shocked him; was this book written by a five-year-old?  He flipped to the front cover and saw that it was Flowers for Algernon.  Oh, well, he thought.  It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.  Nothing except think, anyway, and he really didn’t want to do that at the moment.

 

***

 

Laura’s dinner came at 4:45, according to the usual early mealtime schedule of the hospital, and with it a nurse to wake her up.  Fortunately, the shift had changed at three and this was a different nurse from the one who had been so testy this morning.  “Our daughter is coming to visit at five, so she won’t want to go back to sleep right away,” Jack told her.

 

“That’s fine.  Just hit the call button if she wants the meds,” the nurse said cheerfully.

 

Laura opened her eyes when the tray was being brought in, but didn’t say anything.  She stared at the ceiling.  Jack turned to her after the aide left.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“Fine,” she murmured.

 

“You had a nightmare.”  Irina didn’t answer.  She knew, of course, that she had had a nightmare.  “Want to talk about it?” he said after a moment. 

 

She sighed and tried to force the lingering images of her brother’s tiny coffin from her mind.  “I don’t remember.”  She really wanted to get out of this bed right now and run away, as far from the memories as she could get.

 

“Fine,” Jack said shortly.  He held a spoonful of something unidentifiable up to her lips.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Are you sure?”  She didn’t respond.  With a sigh, he put the spoon down.  “Sydney and the Sloanes should be here soon.”  She nodded.  Jack decided that there was no point in trying to engage her in conversation.  Just like him, she tended to close herself off when she was upset.  They’d had very few really serious fights in their marriage, but when they did, it was a war not of shouts but of silence.  When they were shouting at each other, it just meant a good stimulating argument, which they both enjoyed immensely although neither would admit it.

 

They didn’t speak for ten minutes, until a knock came on the door.  “Come in,” Jack called.

 

“Hi, Mommy!” Sydney cried as she ran around to the far side of the bed.  Arvin and Emily came in after her.  “I made you a get well card.”  She held out a piece of bright green construction paper.

 

Laura smiled and accepted Sydney’s creation.  “Thank you, sweetheart, it’s beautiful,” she said.  She reached out and propped it up against her books.  “I’ll keep it right here where I can look at it.”  She turned to smile at Arvin and Emily.  Mostly at Emily, actually, since Arvin was standing by the door with a frown on his face.  “Thank you for taking care of Sydney.”

 

Emily waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.  “A pleasure, as always.  How are you doing, Laura?  Frankly, for a woman in a hospital bed, you look pretty darn good.”

 

Laura laughed.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  I’m all right; I’ll be better once I get out of this bed.”

 

Emily came around the bed, and Arvin followed, going to stand by the windows.  Jack got up and joined him, and silently they watched the two women interact.  “You poor thing,” Emily said.  “When are they going to let you go home?”

 

“Hopefully tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, good.  Tell you what.  You give me a call when you know what time, and I’ll come over and cook dinner for you.”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to…” Laura said.

 

“All right, I’m going to be tough.  Let me cook you dinner tomorrow night, and I’ll convince everyone in the choir not to bombard you with casseroles.”

 

“Casseroles!  Oh, the horror!” Laura said with a slight grin.  “Please don’t let them bring me casseroles, Emily.  I’m going to be on crutches.  How on Earth would I do anything with a big heavy casserole?”

 

“Well, that’s what your husband is for,” Emily said, turning to wink at Jack.

 

“I could help, Mommy!”  Sydney chimed in.

 

“No, Sydney, that shouldn’t be necessary,” Laura said.  “All right, Emily, you may make us dinner tomorrow night.  I insist that you and Arvin stay and eat with us, though.”

 

“Only if you let me help with the dishes.”

 

“I think I can live with that.”

 

Jack and Arvin glanced at each other, both wondering if they could pull off making the dinner seem normal for Sydney and Emily.  Jack couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed at having them there, or glad that it reduced the time he and Laura had to spend alone together.

 

Emily spoke again.  “Now, when I tell Jim what happened, you know what his first concern will be.  What shall I tell him?”

 

“Who’s Jim?” Jack whispered to Arvin.

 

“The choir director,” Arvin whispered back.

 

Laura looked confused.  “About what?”

 

“The Requiem next Sunday,” Emily said.  “I’m not surprised that you forgot, but you know it will be the most important thing on Jim’s mind.”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” Laura said.  “I suppose it will depend on if Jack can take me to the rehearsals.”  She looked up at Jack.  “Honey, can you drive me to choir practice Thursday night and Saturday morning, and to the concert on Sunday?”

 

Three-days-ago-Jack wouldn’t even have hesitated, Jack thought.  “Of course, sweetheart,” he answered.  Now that he thought about it, he did remember Laura mentioning a concert.  A Requiem by some composer he’d never heard of, in honor of All Saint’s Day, as he recalled.  The choir did two or three concerts outside of church services each year; he always meant to attend but always seemed to end up being out of town on the day of the concert.

 

“Well, I’ll be there, then,” Laura said.

 

“I’ll make sure to tell Jim.  You know he’d probably have a conniption if he had to find a new alto soloist at this point.”  Wait, Jack thought; Laura was singing a solo?  She had never sung a note for him, even when he asked, and she was singing in front of God knew how many people at a church concert?

 

Laura sighed.  “I’m not doing the solo.  I just said I’d learn it in case he couldn’t find anyone else, remember?”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Laura, you really think he’s looking that hard?  He’s been trying to get you to do a solo for four years.  I bet your name is already on the program.”

 

Laura got a stubborn look on her face.  “I’m going to have to have a talk with that man,” she said.  Then an idea dawned.  “Tell him I have broken ribs and I can’t breathe deeply enough to do the solo.”

 

Emily chuckled.  “I’ll tell him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll believe me.”

 

The conversation paused for a moment.  “Mommy, are you going to sing in church?  All by yourself?”  Sydney asked.

 

“No, Sydney, I most certainly am not,” Laura said.

 

“But Mommy, you sing really pretty.  Everybody would like it.”

 

“Thank you, sweetheart, but it’s not going to happen.”

 

Arvin stepped forward after a moment.  “Well, Emily, we should probably get going, let Laura get her rest.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Emily said.  “Give me a call when you find out what time they’re letting you out of this zoo, Laura.”

 

“I will.  And remember: no casseroles, and no solo!”  Laura said.

 

“I’ll try,” Emily said with a smile.  She gave Laura a hug, and then she and Arvin left.

 

Jack stepped forward.  “Well, Sydney, are you hungry?”

 

“Yeah.  Can we get pizza again?”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, Mommy says you have to have vegetables tonight,” Jack said.

 

Sydney made a face.  “Oh, sure, make me the villain,” Laura said.

 

Jack went right up to her bedside.  “Only telling her the truth,” he said.  Without waiting for Sydney’s prompting this time, he leaned over and kissed her, again lingering longer than was strictly necessary.  He pulled back and smiled at her.  “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight,” she said, smiling back.

 

“Daddy, I want to kiss Mommy goodnight too,” Sydney said.  Jack lifted her up so that she and Laura could kiss each other’s cheeks.  “Goodnight, Mommy.”

 

“Goodnight, Sydney.  Eat your vegetables for Daddy, okay?”

 

“Okay.”  She waved as Jack shepherded her out the door.

 

*****

 

Chapter 21

 

Irina woke up to someone shaking her shoulder.  The room was dark, but the starlight coming in through the window was enough for her to make out the shape of a man standing over her bed.  “Jack?” she murmured.  Then she woke up fully and realized who it really was.  She stared at her handler in shock.  “What the hell are you doing here?  Are you crazy?” she whispered.

 

“Irina, stay calm.  I was very careful.  I heard about your accident and simply wanted to make sure there were not any problems.”

 

She put a confused expression on her face.  “What do you mean?”

 

“On the news they said it was a hit and run.  And now you are in a government hospital.  The combination concerned me.”

 

“I’m here because I was driving my husband’s car, so the police called the CIA first.  They don’t suspect anything.  It was just an accident.”

 

“I see.”  He looked at her cast distastefully.  “I suppose you will not be able to drive with that thing on your leg.”

 

“That’s right.  For about a month.”

 

“That will make it difficult for you to meet with me.”

 

She nodded.  “Virtually impossible, unless you want me to take a public bus.”  She knew he wouldn’t.

 

“No.  I suppose I will see you in a month, then.”  He turned and left the room.

 

Despite the drugs, it took Irina quite a while to fall asleep again.

 

***

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Bristow,” Dr. Nielson said as he entered, shortly after Irina finished breakfast.

 

“Doctor Nielson,” Irina replied.  “Any chance of me getting out of here today?”

 

“We’ll see.  How are you feeling this morning?  Much pain?”

 

“Not much,” she answered truthfully.  Her chest had stopped hurting with every breath yesterday, and the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull ache that she suspected was due more to immobility than to the injury.  “I’m getting a little restless, to be honest.”

 

“That’s a good sign,” the doctor said with a smile.  Then his expression grew more serious.  “Mrs. Bristow, you’re aware of what your husband does for a living, correct?”  He had learned after talking to her on Friday that he had been assigned as Laura Bristow’s physician because he had clearance—low level, but clearance nonetheless.  He had been told only that her husband was a CIA field agent and that he had been authorized to tell his wife about his job.

 

Irina tilted her head to the side, surprised.  “Of course.”

 

“Then you understand why I need to be concerned about our conversation on Friday.  Your husband’s mental health is very important in light of the difficulties and dangers he faces at work.  If he’s handling the stress of his job in an unproductive way, then that’s a problem that needs to be dealt with.”

 

Irina smiled.  “Doctor, it’s not necessary to talk around the issue.  My husband is not abusing me.  He has never hit me or threatened me in any way.  He handles his stress quite productively.”

 

“I see,” the doctor said.  He frowned for a moment.  “Mrs. Bristow, since you’re a large part of your husband’s psychological support, your mental health is important as well.  I’ll be blunt.  I believe from your medical history and our earlier conversation that you were physically abused in the past, and that you’ve never truly dealt with that trauma.  I don’t believe it was your husband; your father, perhaps?”  She didn’t say anything, but broke eye contact with him.  “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Bristow.”

 

After a moment, she spoke, still without looking at him.  “Yes, you’re right.  My father abused me.  But he’s very far away and no longer a threat.  Are you happy now?”

 

The doctor was quiet for a moment.  “Mrs. Bristow, I’m going to recommend that you seek counseling.  Because of your husband’s job and the likelihood that you are exposed to classified information, I’m going to recommend to the CIA that you see one of their counselors.  Is that all right?”

 

Irina closed her eyes and sighed.  Just what she needed, some analyst type poking around in her head.  On the other hand, the CIA would probably be thrilled, since this gave them the perfect excuse to get her into CIA headquarters on a regular basis.  With any luck, they would use the time to exchange information rather than making her see a counselor.  “That’s fine,” she said.

 

“Good.  Now let’s get you down the hall for some X-rays.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 22

 

Jack parked the car in the garage, then got out and watched as Laura scuttled backwards to get out of the small back seat.  “You want some help?” he said uncertainly after watching her for a moment.

 

“No, I’m…”  She stopped talking and yelped as she backed up a little too far and lost her balance.

 

Jack rushed forward and managed to catch her under her arms.  “Hold still.  I’m going to pull you out.”  He pulled her backwards slowly, giving her enough time to get her left leg under her before letting go.

 

“We’re going to have to work on that before I try to get out of the car in public,” Laura said with a wry grin as Jack got her crutches out and handed them to her.

 

Just then the door opened and Sydney charged out.  “Mommy!”  she called. 

 

Fortunately, Jack managed to catch her before she barreled right into Laura.  He had been surprised in the hospital at how easily she handled the crutches, but he doubted she would be able to remain upright if a six-year-old ball of energy crashed into her.  “Sydney, you’ve got to be careful around Mommy.  She’s hurt, remember?”

 

Sydney looked up at her mother, noticing the crutches for the first time.  “Sorry, Mommy,” she said.

 

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Laura answered.  “Let’s go in the house, and I’ll give you a hug as soon as I sit down, okay?”

 

Emily looked up from the stove and smiled as they entered; she and Arvin had come over to watch Sydney while Jack went to the hospital to pick Laura up.  “How does it feel to be home?” she said with a smile.

 

“Wonderful,” Laura answered as she settled herself on a chair at the kitchen table and propped her leg up on another chair.  Sydney immediately climbed into her lap.  Jack looked at Laura uncertainly.  “She’s fine, Jack,” Laura said in response to his expression as she gave Sydney a hug.

 

Arvin came into the kitchen and looked slightly surprised to see Sydney on Laura’s lap, but hid it before anyone but Jack noticed.  “Laura.  How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“Not bad,” she answered, looking up at him with a slight smile that faded when she saw his grim expression.  She hadn’t quite been sure yesterday if he knew the truth, but she could see now that he did.  She had a feeling, too, that he disapproved of the current situation.

 

“Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,” Emily said, unwittingly dissolving the tension in the room.

 

Arvin gestured at Jack.  “We’ll be in the den,” Jack said in response.  He and Arvin left.

 

“So am I safe from casseroles and solos?”  Laura said when they were gone.

 

“Casseroles, yes,” Emily said as she pulled plates out of the cupboard.

 

“Sydney, would you help Aunt Emily set the dining room table, please?” Laura said.  Sydney slid off her lap and went to pick up the plates.  “And the solo?”

 

“Your name’s on the program.”

 

Laura gave a frustrated sigh.  “I told him…”

 

Emily came over after getting the glasses down and sat down across from Laura.  “I don’t understand why you don’t want to do it,” she said.  “I’d be thrilled if my voice was good enough that the choir director was begging me to do a solo.  And you do have a beautiful voice, Laura.”

 

“How do you know?” Laura said, confused.  “You’ve never heard me sing by myself.”

 

Emily grinned.  “Haven’t you noticed that you sight-read much better than the other altos?”

 

Laura leaned forward and put her head in her hands.  “Good God,” she mumbled.  She looked up.  “I can’t do it.  I can’t sing in front of all those people.  No.  It’s impossible.”

 

Emily reached over and patted her hand.  “It will be fine.  I promise.” 

 

Laura just shook her head.  She was silent for a moment.  Then she said, “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

 

“No, I’m afraid you don’t,” Emily said with a smile that was entirely too gleeful.  She stood.  “Dinner should be just about ready.”

 

***

 

Arvin pulled Jack into the den and shut the door.  “How are you doing?” he said.

 

Jack ran a nervous hand through his hair.  “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

 

“You think dinner will be all right?  Emily’s noticed that I’ve been acting strange this weekend.  I told her there were some major happenings at work that have me upset.  Which is true, I suppose.”

 

“Dinner will be fine.  Laura’s a great actress,” Jack said bitterly.

 

“I’ve noticed.”  Arvin paused.  “Will you be all right tonight once we leave?”

 

“I’ll manage.”

 

“You’re not going to beat the shit out of her, are you?  Be careful not to mark her face if you do.”

 

“Honestly, Arvin, I think I can control myself a little better than that.”

 

Arvin shrugged.  “No one would blame you.”

 

“If it were Emily, would you?”

 

Arvin was silent for a moment.  “I don’t know,” he said finally.  “I honestly can’t imagine what this must be like for you.”  He paused again.  “What about Sydney?  Will you be all right when the time comes to leave her alone with Laura?”

 

“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation.  “There’s a lot of things I’m still not sure of, but Laura is Sydney’s mother, and she loves her.  She wouldn’t hurt her.”

 

Arvin frowned.  He was about to say something else when Sydney came into the den.  “Dinner’s ready,” she said.

 

*****

 

Chapter 23

 

Dinner was uneventful, the conversation dominated by Laura and Emily with the occasional oh-so-cute remark from Sydney.  As Jack said goodbye to the Sloanes and shut the door behind him, he felt both relieved that it had gone all right, and anxious about the evening to come.  He sighed and went into the kitchen.  Laura had just finished drying the dishes, and without a word he started putting them away.

 

“Did you have any homework this weekend, Sydney?” Laura asked as she sat down at the table.

 

“Yeah, I did it earlier,” Sydney replied.

 

“Can I see it?”  Sydney got her homework out of her backpack and passed it to Laura, who made sure that all of the answers were right.  “This looks good,” she said as she put it back in the backpack.  “Have you been practicing the piano this weekend?”

 

Jack turned in time to catch Sydney’s guilty expression and felt just a bit guilty himself.  “Um, I guess I forgot,” Sydney said.

 

Laura glanced at the wall clock.  “That’s all right,” she said.  “You’ve still got time to practice tonight before your bath.”

 

Sydney nodded and headed to the living room, where moments later they heard her working her way through “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”.

 

Jack came around to stand in front of Laura.  “Sorry, I forgot to remind her to practice,” he said.

 

“That’s all right, you had other things on your mind,” Laura said softly.  “Anyway, a couple of days off won’t kill her.”  They stared at each other in awkward silence for a moment.  Laura broke it by saying, “Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

 

“Tuesday,” Jack replied.  He debated whether to talk to her about Twilight now, but then decided that tomorrow would be better.

 

Laura started to get up.  “Well, I guess I’ll head upstairs.  Can you send Sydney up when she’d done?” 

 

Jack nodded and watched as she swung herself out of the kitchen.  He debated for a moment whether to have a drink, but then decided that he needed some help to get through the evening.  He poured himself a double scotch and sat down to drink it.  Although he hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights, he had refused to allow himself to drink; after the night two years ago when he had nearly burned the house down making toast, he and Laura had agreed that they would not get drunk when Sydney was home.  But he wasn’t going to get drunk, he told himself; he would just have this to take the edge off.  He sipped the drink and relished the burning sensation as it went down.  And even if he did get drunk, Laura would be able to put out any fires.

 

Now that he thought about it, she had been remarkably efficient in putting out that toaster fire two years ago, and she had sobered up pretty quickly afterwards.  Well, he had too once he’d realized that he could have killed them all, but she’d been faster.  Had she really been drunk that night?  Had she ever really been drunk around him?  “I’ll add that to the list,” he muttered.

 

After a few minutes, the sound of the piano stopped, and Sydney came into the kitchen.  “Where’s Mommy?” she asked.

 

“She went upstairs,” Jack answered, trying to smile at her.  “She’s waiting to give you your bath.”

 

“Oh.  Okay.”  Sydney stood there for a moment, looking at him, a confused expression on her face.

 

“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” Jack asked.

 

“No, Daddy.  I’ll go take my bath now.”  She left, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Got to be a better actor, Jack.  She’s going to suspect something if she doesn’t already,” he said to himself.  Damn it, he thought.  He had enough trouble going undercover and fighting the KGB in his job; now it had become his life.  He upended the glass and drank the rest of the scotch in one gulp, then sat staring at the empty glass for a moment.  He got up and poured himself another.

 

***

 

Laura gave Sydney a bath, tucked her into bed, and read a chapter of Charlotte’s Web, then leaned over and kissed her on her forehead.  “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said.  She had always treasured every moment with Sydney, knowing that she would one day have to leave, but now that she had almost lost it all she was more determined than ever to give Sydney—and herself—good memories enough to last a lifetime.

 

“Mommy?”  Sydney said sleepily as Laura stood and put the book back on Sydney’s bookshelf.  “Is Daddy mad at you?”

 

Irina frowned.  What had happened?  Had Jack said something to her?  “What makes you think he’s mad at me?”

 

“’Cause he hasn’t hugged you or kissed you all day.  And he kind of looks mad when he looks at you.”

 

Shit, Irina thought.  Sydney was too damn perceptive.  She smiled down at Sydney.  “Daddy’s not mad at me, sweetheart.  He’s just tired because he has to do lots of things that I usually do because I’m hurt.”  Hopefully that excuse would work as long as she was on crutches, and by then maybe Sydney would forget how often her parents used to touch.  She gave Sydney another kiss.  “Sleep well, okay?”

 

“Okay.  Good night, Mommy.  I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Sydney.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 24

 

Jack sat in the kitchen, watching his glass as he swirled the liquid.  He’d finished his second double scotch and had poured the third without hesitation, and he was still trying to work up the fortitude to go upstairs.

 

Laura.  He wanted so badly to go to his wife, the woman he had fallen in love with, his best friend and confidant, and let her comfort him.  But she had never existed.  There was a stranger upstairs with his wife’s face, someone named Irina, the woman who had created Laura and then destroyed her.  And yet he would have to go up there and share a bed with her.  He would like to stay downstairs and sleep on the couch, but that would lead to questions from Sydney if she found him there in the morning.

 

He drank down the rest of the scotch and started to go pour more, but staggered slightly as he approached the liquor cabinet.  He turned and put the glass in the sink instead, the last vestiges of clear thought telling him that he was already rather drunk; if he drank any more he would lose control.  Well, might as well not put it off any longer, he thought; he took a deep breath and started upstairs.

 

***

 

Irina was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when she heard Jack come up the stairs, being about as quiet as a herd of elephants.  Good thing Sydney was a heavy sleeper.  She heard him open the bedroom door, come in, and then practically slam it shut.  She finished brushing her teeth, then brushed her hair and braided it as she listened to his movements through the partially open bedroom door.

 

Finished, she got her crutches from where they had been leaning against the wall and swung herself into the bedroom to see Jack sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from her, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking.  She stood there for a moment, longing to go to him but unsure of whether he would accept her help.  Finally she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to try; she maneuvered herself over and sat beside him.  After laying the crutches on the floor, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.  At first he didn’t move, and she thought that it was a good sign that he didn’t pull away.

 

Without warning, he suddenly turned, grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her down to the bed, then swung one leg over so that he was straddling her hips.  She looked up at him to see that his eyes, though filled with tears, also held anger.  She had instinctively grabbed his arms as he pushed her down, but now she let go and dropped her arms to her sides, then forced her body to relax.  They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.  Finally, she whispered, “Jack, if you need to hurt me, I understand.”

 

He looked at her for a moment more, then sighed and rolled off of her.  He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her; she still hadn’t moved.  “It won’t help,” he said in a choked voice.  “It won’t bring her back.”

 

Irina was confused.  She sat up.  “Bring who back?”

 

His face darkened with anger.  “My wife, you bitch!”  He drew back his hand and slapped her across the face.  Then he turned pale and looked at his hand as if he had never seen it before.

 

She suddenly understood.  Whenever something had gone wrong on one of his missions, whenever one of his colleagues had died senselessly or they had lost some key item or piece of information, he had come to her for comfort, and now he felt that his best source of comfort was gone.  She stood and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his.  “I am your wife, Jack,” she whispered into his ear.  “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.  I meant those words with all my heart the first time I said them, and I still mean them now.”

 

He pulled away and looked at her with a confused expression.  “You…I…” he stammered.  He put his hands up and rubbed his forehead.  Then he turned, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.  Irina sat back down on the bed and put her head in her hands.  Somehow, they would get through this.  She would just have to keep believing that.

 

*****

 

Chapter 25

 

In the bathroom, Jack splashed cold water on his face.  He couldn’t believe that he had actually hit her.  He didn’t feel the slightest bit drunk anymore.  He could have really hurt her, had been close to it when he had her pinned to the bed—and she would have let him.  That was the worst part.  He’d been about to beat up someone who wouldn’t fight back.  Damn her.  If she’d just get mad at him, or even be cold and unfriendly, this wouldn’t hurt so much.  If she’d just be a little more spy-like, he thought.  But no, she kept looking at him with that sad, understanding look on her face, like she felt sorry for him.  He didn’t need the pity of a Russian spy, damn it.

 

He thought back to when she’d been in the hospital; he’d been starting to see her as a new person, someone very much like his Laura but with a past he knew nothing about.  But that had been in the neutral setting of the hospital; here, where her touch was everywhere, inescapable, he couldn’t help but be reminded of what he had lost.  He sighed.  His mind came back to the image of Laura lying so still beneath his hands, so calm even though she must have been sure that he was going to hurt her.  It was almost as if she wanted to take his pain away, even if it meant bearing it herself…the way she always had.  The comfort she had given him before had always been real, he realized, to her as well as to him.  What had it been like for her, to comfort her enemy?  To hold him and tell him he’d done the right thing after he told her of killing her countrymen? 

 

He closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion swept him.  He’d been thinking too damn much.  He brushed his teeth before slowly opening the door to the bedroom.

 

Laura had changed into a conservative nightgown and was perched on the edge of the still-made bed.  When Jack opened the bathroom door, they just stared at each other for a moment.  Then Jack said, “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

 

“It’s all right,” she answered.  He went over to the dresser and started changing into his pajamas with his back to her.  “Jack, I can sleep on the couch downstairs if you want me to.”

 

Without turning, he said, “You can’t sleep on the couch.  You have a broken leg.”  She didn’t bother to say that the couch was a far better bed than she’d ever had as a child, including when she’d had broken bones.  “Besides,” Jack added, “you know Sydney goes down there early in the morning sometimes.”

 

“She already knows something’s wrong.”

 

“I’m trying, damn it!” he said, sudden anger surprising him.  He finished changing and turned around.  “Pretending that you feel something you don’t might come easily enough to you, but it’s a little harder for me, okay?”

 

His strike at her must have hurt, but she didn’t respond to it.  “I know, Jack.  I know it’s hard,” she said.  “And Sydney was bound to notice; she’s very perceptive.  There’s nothing you could have done about that.”  She stood and managed to pull the covers down, then got into bed.

 

Jack sighed and walked around the bed.  “I never was very good at undercover missions, and now my whole life has become one!  Do you have any idea what that’s like?”  She just raised her eyebrows at him.  He looked at her for a moment in puzzlement, and then felt incredibly stupid.  “God.  Of course you do.”  He turned off the light and then got in bed, lying as close to his edge as possible.  They both stared into the darkness for a moment.  Suddenly a question popped into Jack’s head.  He didn’t want to know the answer, but he had to ask.  “Laura, did you…did you have sex with anyone else, after we were married?”

 

There was silence for a moment, and then she answered.  “Yes.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 26

 

Jack shuddered as a cold chill went through him.  “Sydney?” he whispered fearfully.

 

“She’s yours, Jack.”  He breathed a sigh of relief.  Then she continued,  “With my handlers…it was never…it was always…well, oral.”  He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to think too closely about that.  “Jack, I didn’t want to.”  She paused.  “It’s…I don’t know, maybe the CIA’s different, but in the KGB, well…you don’t say no to a superior officer.  No matter what they ask.  I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, sounding like she was about to cry.

 

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to reconcile it all.  He believed her when she said she didn’t have a choice; the Soviet Union controlled its citizens with an iron hand, and he had no doubt that it was even worse in the ranks of the KGB.  “How old were you when you joined the KGB?” he asked.

 

“Fifteen.”

 

Just a child, he thought.  She couldn’t possibly have known what she was getting into.  “How were you recruited?”

 

“I…I guess I came to their attention somehow.  My father was a policeman; maybe that had something to do with it.”

 

“What made you decide to join?”

 

“I didn’t really ‘decide’,” Irina said, sounding surprised.  “I don’t remember ever actually being asked.  I broke my leg when I met the agent who recruited me, badly, and the KGB took care of the medical care…I suppose there was the implication that I owed them.  It never crossed my mind that I might be able to say no.”  She couldn’t help but think back to the events of that night, the last of her childhood.

 

***

 

“Irina, get out here!” her father called.  Fifteen-year-old Irina hurried out of the back room, knowing better than to dawdle.  “I got you a new dress.  Go put it on,” he said.  Irina stared at him.  He had never, ever gotten her clothing before.  He scowled at her when he saw she still hadn’t done as she was told.  “Go!” he growled.

 

She went back into the bedroom and quickly changed from her patched, faded dress into the one her father had brought.  It fit poorly—too big in the waist, too tight in the chest and shoulders, and too short—she could tell from the style that it was supposed to end just below her knees, but instead it ended several inches above.  Still, the dress didn’t fit any worse than the other two dresses she owned, and it was much less worn.  But why had her father brought it?  He had been acting awfully strangely lately; he hadn’t been hitting her nearly as often as usual for the past couple of weeks.

 

She came out of the bedroom, and her father looked her over carefully while she stood uncomfortably under his scrutiny.  “You’ll do,” he said.  “Sit.”  He pushed her into a chair and stared at her morosely.  She wondered if he was waiting for something.  She didn’t say anything, having learned a long time ago never to ask her father questions.

 

After about ten minutes had passed, there was a knock on the door.  Her father opened it to admit a man wrapped in furs.  As he unwrapped, Irina could see that he was a rather ugly young man, probably in his mid to late twenties; from his clothing, he was much better off than she and her father were.  He stared at her as he removed his furs, and she boldly stared back.

 

“Stand up, Irina,” her father said, pulling her to her feet.  “Here she is,” he said to the stranger.  “Pretty face, but she’s got a nasty temper to go with it, and more brains than are good for her.  She can cook and clean, though, and she’s got a nice strong body.  So, is she worth it?”

 

“Yes, I think so,” the man said, pulling a money bag from his pocket.

 

“Good.  Irina, meet your new husband.”

 

Irina stared at him in shock, but only for a moment.  “You think I’m just going to let you sell me?” she cried.  She pulled back her fist and punched her father in the nose, then turned toward the door.  She would figure out where to go later.

 

But she didn't make it very far before her father grabbed her by the hair, pulled her toward him, and slammed her head down on the table, dazing her.  “You’re my daughter, and my property to dispose of as I see fit,” he growled.

 

“Like hell!” she responded as she drove her knee into his groin.  She pushed him away and went for the door again, half-noticing their visitor as she did.  He was just standing there, watching, with a slight smile on his face.  Why didn’t he do something?  She would have expected him to come in on the side of her father.

 

She had her hand on the latch this time when her father got to her.  He’d grabbed his police club, and swung it hard into her upper right leg.  She collapsed as the bone shattered.  “Can’t run now, Irina,” he said with a vicious grin.  She could tell that he was furious.  He raised the club and was about to bring it down on her other leg when their visitor made his move.  He pulled a gun from under his clothes and hit her father in the side of the head with it; her father landed in a heap on her broken leg, unconscious.

 

He looked down at her for a moment, still with that strange smile on his face.  “I won’t be your wife, you bastard,” she said through clenched teeth.  “I won’t let you touch me without a fight.”

 

He laughed.  “You are as remarkable as we had hoped,” he said.  “Lying there with a broken leg and you still won’t give up.  We have been watching you, you know.”

 

“What the hell do you want?  Who’s ‘we’?”

 

“Oh, dear, I haven’t introduced myself.  I am Alexander Khasinau.  Child, you would be wasted as the trophy wife of some bourgeois scum.  I would like to invite you to join the KGB.”

 

***

 

“Laura?”  Jack’s voice reminded her of where she was.

 

“What?”

 

“Are you having flashbacks again?”  He sounded worried.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

She felt him roll toward her; he found her shoulder in the dark and lay his hand on it.  “I read your chart at the hospital.  About all the broken bones you’ve had.  Your father…was he the one that did it?”

 

She didn’t want to talk about this right now.  Talking to a CIA counselor would be bad enough.  “Jack, I’m really tired.  Could we go to sleep now?”

 

His hand on her shoulder tightened just a bit.  “No, Laura.  You can’t just go to sleep to avoid the subject again.”

 

She sighed audibly.  The feelings she had spent years trying to shove into a tidy little hole suddenly threatened to burst forth again.  Didn’t anyone understand that she was fine as long as she didn’t think about her father?  “Yes, Jack.  You’re right.  My father hit me when he was drunk.  Sometimes he hit with hard objects and broke bones.  Can I go to sleep now?”

 

He moved closer and slipped his other arm behind her neck; she stiffened with surprise at the contact.  He pulled back to his side of the bed.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

She knew she should say something, that if she didn’t accept the comfort he was offering he might be even more reluctant to take it from her, but she was afraid that she would break down.  She had promised herself when she was thirteen, on the day that her father had stolen the last bit of beauty from her life, that she would be strong, that she wouldn’t break again.  She had broken that promise three years ago when the KGB had taken her baby, but she wouldn’t do it again.  With difficulty, she rolled to the side away from Jack; it put her casted leg on the bottom, and undoubtedly it would ache in the morning, but it would be much easier to bear than the pain she was feeling right now.

 

“Laura?”  Jack touched her shoulder again, but she shrugged him off.  “Fine,” he said.  He turned as well, probably away from her.

 

She allowed a single tear to escape her eye before she made herself cold once again.

 

*****

 

Chapter 27

 

Jack lay on his back, listening to Laura’s breathing.  He wasn’t sure what to think about the evening’s revelations.  His skin crawled at the thought of Laura doing…that…with another man, but he knew that she hadn’t had a choice.  And her father…no child should have to go through that, and she obviously wasn’t over it.  Yet she’d been willing to let him treat her the same way.

 

He tried to clear his mind to sleep, but then he realized that rather than getting slow and even, Laura’s breathing sounded strained.  He turned toward her and remembered that she had broken ribs on her right side.  “Laura?” he said softly.  She tensed visibly, probably afraid that he would revisit the earlier topic of conversation.  “Maybe you shouldn’t be lying on your broken ribs…you don’t sound too good.”

 

“Oh,” she murmured.  With some difficulty, she rolled to her left side, landing only inches from him.  The moon chose that moment to shine through the cracks in the blinds, and they stared at each other for a long moment.  Jack suddenly felt a longing for her touch, so strong that the ache was almost physical.  Tentatively, he extended a hand toward her; she took it with a slight smile.

 

With his other hand, he gently caressed her cheek.  “We can never go back, can we?” he whispered.

 

“No, Jack,” she answered, taking his hand as he started to put it back down.  “We can’t.  But do you want to?  Would you rather have found out the truth after I’d been extracted?”

 

He held her eyes.  “I don’t know.  I just…I don’t know.  I don’t know what’s true and what’s not anymore.”

 

“I love you, Jack.  That’s true.”  She saw the uncertainty on his face.  “Jack, think about it.  Do you really think that anyone, no matter how good at acting, could pretend to be in love with someone for ten years?”

 

He was silent for a long moment.  “I don’t know, Laura.  I…well, I obviously missed something.  I mean, I’m trained to be observant, to figure out who’s being insincere, who’s hiding something, but I didn’t see any of that with you.”

 

She looked at him sadly.  “Because you loved me,” she whispered.

 

Abruptly he pulled his hands from hers and rolled onto his back, breaking eye contact.  “I loved the character you were playing.  Not you.”

 

“There was no character, Jack.  Just a different life history.  I never lied when it wasn’t necessary.”  He didn’t answer.  She sighed.  “There’s nothing I can do to convince you, is there?  We could go on like this for another ten years, and you might still believe that I’m playing a part.”

 

“Well, obviously I’m not any good at discerning whether you’re telling the truth or not.”

 

“I hated lying to you, Jack.  I was surprised when I realized that lying to you bothered me, because it’s never been an issue with anyone else.  I’ve never felt the slightest guilt about telling my handlers that I’m still loyal to my country, that you and Sydney mean nothing to me.  But you, Jack, you were different.  I felt so relieved when I found out that I didn’t have to lie to you anymore.”

 

He turned back toward her.  “It would have been easier to lie to me about…your handlers.”

 

“Yes, it would have.  But there have been too many lies already.”  She reached out and took his hand.  “Jack, I know you’ll never trust me again like you did before.  But we are going to have to work together, we have a child to raise together, and you’re going to have to trust me at least a little.  I won’t make that harder by lying to you, not even if a lie would be easier.”

 

Jack didn’t know what to think.  She seemed sincere, but what if she wasn’t?  Did he dare to let down the walls that he had so recently built, even a tiny bit?  She saw his indecision and gave him a small smile.  “It’s all right, Jack.  I know it’s going to take time.”

 

He gave her hand a squeeze.  “We should get to sleep,” was all he could think of to say.

 

“Yes.”

 

Jack felt the need to touch her again, and this time he acted on it, putting his arm around her.  “Can I hold you?” he asked tentatively.

 

“Of course,” she said instantly.  He moved closer and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.  She put her arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest.  As always, their bodies fit together perfectly, and they were soon asleep.

 

***

 

Chapter 28

 

When Jack woke up, he found that he and Laura had shifted positions; he was now on his back, while she was curled on her side with her head on his chest.  He looked at the clock and then quickly extricated an arm to turn off the alarm with less than a minute to spare.  Slowly and carefully, he slid out from under Laura, not wanting to wake her.

 

He took a quick shower and emerged to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair.  “Good morning,” she said a little uncertainly when he came in.

 

“Morning,” he answered in a neutral tone.  He looked at her for a moment, thinking about Twilight.  Had he told her about it, back when he blindly trusted her?  He was pretty sure that he’d mentioned something about it, but couldn’t remember how much he’d told her.  He mentally berated himself.

 

Irina noticed Jack watching her out of the corner of his eye.  She could tell that something was bothering him, and that it had to do with her.  She debated whether to mention it, but decided to wait until after Sydney was off to school.  Instead of speaking, she grabbed her crutches and went into the bathroom.  She gave herself a quick sponge bath, thinking as she did so that she was going to go crazy without a real bath or shower for the next three months. 

 

Finished, she went back to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, only to find Jack gone.  She quickly dressed and pulled her hair into a ponytail, thinking that she would have to tackle washing it in the kitchen sink later, then swung herself down the hall to Sydney’s room.  She pushed open the door to see that Sydney was just finishing getting dressed.  “Morning, Mommy!” Sydney called when she saw her.  “Daddy’s downstairs.  I told him I wanted two French braids in my hair today, but he said you could do that while he cooked breakfast.”

 

Laura smiled and maneuvered herself over to the bed.  “Bring me the brush and the hair ties,” she said, wondering if “cooking” meant that they’d all be having cold cereal.  Jack was an adequate cook, but he didn’t like it.  Apparently, though, the prospect of trying to braid Sydney’s hair made even cooking seem appealing to him.  She braided Sydney’s hair, then sent her daughter ahead while she made her way carefully down the steps. 

 

When she reached the kitchen, she was surprised to find that Jack had made eggs and toast.  He surprised her further by smiling at her when she came in.  “Milk or orange juice, Laura?” he said as he carried a bowl of scrambled eggs to the table, which Sydney had just finished setting.

 

“Juice, please,” she answered.  “Can I help with anything?”

 

“No, Mommy, sit down,” Sydney said.  “I told Daddy we should be nice and do stuff for you since you have a broken leg, and he said I was right.”

 

“That’s very sweet, Sydney, thank you,” she said, smiling at Sydney and then at Jack.  He was obviously making more of an effort to be nice to her in front of Sydney this morning, and she was glad.

 

Jack and Laura focused the breakfast conversation on Sydney, and she chattered happily throughout the meal.  When they finished, Laura followed Sydney to the door and made sure she met up with the kids across the street to walk to school.  Jack came up behind her as she closed the door behind their daughter.  “Laura, can you come into the living room, please?”

 

She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was worried about something.  “What’s wrong, Jack?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, just something I need to talk to you about.”  Wondering what was going on, she followed him into the living room.

 

*****

 

Chapter 29

 

Jack was already seated on the couch, so Irina sat down next to him, facing him at an angle.  He looked nervous; she waited for him to speak.  “Laura,” he said after a moment, “have I ever told you about something called Twilight?”

 

Irina was surprised.  She’d expected something a little more personal.  “You mentioned it a year or so ago,” she replied.  “It was supposed to be some kind of new truth serum.”  She hesitated, then added, “It’s one of the things that the KGB wants me to find out about.”

 

Jack frowned, but took the last comment in stride.  “I’ll mention that to Dawson.  I don’t suppose there would be much harm in telling them, because it’s completely useless as an interrogation technique.”  She waited, confused.  He took a deep breath.  “The drug is a mixture of a sedative and a mild hallucinogen.  If the subject is relaxed when it’s administered, it can induce a deep hypnotic state.  As far as we can tell, someone can only tell the truth when they’re in that state.”

 

She suddenly understood.  “And you want to use it on me.”

 

“Dawson wants me to use it on you,” Jack corrected.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.  Some of the side effects can be rather…unpleasant.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Well, a lot of people can’t stay relaxed enough for the drug to work properly.  If someone gets agitated, then the drug can cause hallucinations.  That’s why it doesn’t work for interrogation—the subject has to be willing to relax.  And even if it does work, a lot of people have general side effects from the drug.  Headaches, nausea, drowsiness, that sort of thing.  It’s a fairly short-lived drug, so the side effects usually only last about an hour.”

 

Jack seemed awfully reluctant to use the drug, Irina thought.  “Have you tried it?”

 

“Once.  I couldn’t relax enough to get into the trance.  Luckily I didn’t have hallucinations, but I did have the worst headache of my life afterwards.”  He paused.  “It was…very unpleasant.  It’s up to you.  I mean, you don’t have to do it…”

 

“I’ll do it,” she said firmly. 

 

Jack raised his eyebrows.  “Are you sure?”

 

She nodded.  “The worst-case scenario is that I’ll be miserable for an hour, right?  Best-case scenario is that it will work and you’ll actually believe me when I say I intend to cooperate fully with the CIA.  Seems like a good deal to me.” 

 

Jack studied her for a moment.  “Well, if you’re sure, we should go upstairs.  You’ll need to be in bed.”

 

She nodded, and they stood and headed upstairs.

 

*****

 

Chapter 30

 

Jack reached the top of the stairs first and went into the spare bedroom, where he opened his safe—to which he had just changed the combination on Saturday—and pulled out the briefcase that Arvin had given him.  He was back out in the hall just as Laura reached the top of the stairs on her crutches.

 

He preceded her into the bedroom, opened the briefcase, and found the box containing the pregnancy test kit.  Laura came in, saw it, and looked up at him, confused.  “You’re supposed to use this before,” Jack said.  “Just a precaution.”

 

She nodded.  “Good idea.  I think they did a pregnancy test at the hospital, too, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”  She paused for a moment, and must have read the pain in his face, because she added, “Jack, we need to talk about…the baby issue.”

 

He swallowed hard and nodded.  “Yes, but not now.”  She smiled sadly as he turned and went into the bathroom, where he put the pregnancy test down on the counter.

 

She went in and shut the door behind her, and Jack busied himself with setting things up.  A few minutes later, she came back out, and he turned.  “Should I change into my nightgown?” she asked.

 

“Probably; you’ll be more comfortable,” he answered.  “The test was negative?”

 

“Yes.”  Irina quickly changed into her nightgown, then nervously approached the bed.  She was certainly planning to tell the truth, but the thought of being unable to lie at all, no matter what question was asked, was quite frightening; if it had been anyone other than Jack, she wouldn’t have been able to do it.  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

 

“I’m ready now,” he said as he finished hanging an IV bag from the bedside lamp.  “Go ahead and lie down.”  She did, lying on her back and making herself as comfortable as possible.  Jack picked up a tourniquet, and she lifted her right arm.  “The IV will just be saline for right now,” he said as he tied the tourniquet around her upper arm.  “I’ll inject the drug into the line when you’re ready.  I won’t tell you when I do it because that tends to make people tense up.” 

 

She nodded and watched as Jack felt her elbow for a vein, then rubbed it with alcohol.  He uncapped the needle at the end of the IV line and easily slid it into the vein, then taped the line to her arm.  “You’re good at this,” she said with a slight smile.

 

“Thanks,” he said after a pause.  He picked up the pillow that he had set aside and carefully settled her arm on it.  “Is that good?” he said.  She nodded.  Then Jack picked up some kind of electronic device with a cord attaching it to what looked like watch strap.  “This is a heart rate monitor, so I know when you’re relaxed enough to give you the drug.”  He put the strap around her right wrist, then looked down at the device for a moment and nodded.  He sat down on the chair he’d moved over to the bed.  “All right, Laura, whenever you’re ready, just close your eyes and relax.”

 

“What if I fall asleep?”

 

He gave her a slight smile.  “Then you’ll be the first person ever to fall asleep before you get the drug.”

 

Suddenly she got very, very nervous.  What in God’s name had she gotten herself into?  “What are you going to ask me?” she asked suddenly.  Jack handed her a sheet of paper, and she read the typed list of questions.  It was what she had expected, questions about her loyalties and if she intended to cooperate fully with the CIA.  She handed the sheet back to Jack.  “These are the questions Dawson gave you.”  He nodded.  “You don’t have any questions of your own?”

 

He frowned for a moment.  “I’ll ask if you’ve been telling me the truth since you were discovered, and if you plan to continue telling me the truth.”  He looked nervous as he spoke, as if he were afraid she would suddenly refuse.

 

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then put her head back down and closed her eyes.  She had learned as a child how to make herself relax even when she was frightened or in pain, and had even found that relaxation could sometimes lessen the pain, and so her relaxation techniques were well-practiced.  Still, she found it difficult to relax fully.  She breathed slowly and deeply, telling herself that she was with Jack, that he wouldn’t let any harm come to her, that he wouldn’t ask her surprise questions.

 

She felt the moment when her mind finally stopped struggling and relaxed completely.  Jack must have realized it, too, because she heard the slight rustling of movement, and then felt a slight twitch of the IV tube against her skin.  She kept her thoughts calm and focused on breathing.

 

Suddenly a chill ran through her body, and her limbs grew heavy.  She almost panicked for a brief moment, but caught herself just in time.  She managed to relax again, and then felt warmth come over her, and with it a sense of peace and safety like she’d never experienced before.  It was like she was floating in warm water, completely at ease.  She heard muffled sound, a male voice, filter down to her.  A slight shadow of worry passed over her as she realized that she couldn’t understand the words, but disappeared as she felt and heard another part of herself answer him.

 

She could have stayed like this forever, but it was not to be.  Her sense of peace was shattered abruptly when she suddenly felt as if she were spinning, faster and faster.  She grew cold again.  Then, suddenly, she was falling into blackness.

 

*****

 

Chapter 31

 

Jack watched as Laura closed her eyes and released some of then tension from her body.  He glanced down at the heart rate monitor, which was at 68 beats per minute.  Laura was a runner, usually running for half an hour at least three times a week, and so her resting heart rate should be fairly low.  He waited.

 

He was surprised that she was actually trying this; just the fact that she was doing it made it clear that she really did want to cooperate with the CIA.  He would be shocked if it worked.  It would only work if she trusted him completely, because she would be putting a lot of power in his hands.  Surely somewhere within her was a kernel of distrust; he was her country’s enemy, after all.

 

A slight change came over her body, so small as to be all but unnoticeable—the final release of tension.  Jack glanced at the monitor; as he watched, it dropped from 60 to 56.  It was time, then.  Moving slowly and being as quiet as possible, he picked up the syringe he had ready and injected it carefully into the IV line.  Then he watched the heart rate monitor intently; now was when it was really important.  By the time he was done with the injection, her heart rate had jumped to 62; she must have heard him, he realized.  Then it jumped up to 72 as the drug first started to take effect; that was normal, but it still made him nervous.

 

He almost jumped when the number suddenly dropped.  The monitor updated every five seconds, and so it jumped from 72 to 59, and then five seconds later down to 38.  Jack’s hands began to shake slightly.  She was in Twilight.

 

He hadn’t told her the whole truth about this strange mental state, because there was no way she would have gone through with it if she had known.  He had the power now to do far more than just ask questions; he could, if he wanted, alter her memories, or even—theoretically—brainwash her.  He suddenly wondered if that was Dawson’s real plan; if this worked, maybe Dawson wanted to alter her memory to make her believe that she had never been caught by the CIA; he could then feed her false information to pass to the KGB without her being aware of it.  Jack hoped that wasn’t the plan; he didn’t think he could pull off that sort of deception for very long.  He certainly wouldn’t be nearly as good at it as Laura.  Hell, he couldn’t even fool his own daughter.

 

Jack shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at Laura.  He started the tape recorder that Dawson had provided him.  “Can you hear me?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“What is your name?”

 

There was a pause.  “Laura Bristow.  Irina Derevko.”

 

Jack was surprised at that.  It meant that her alias was as true to her as her real name.  But then, he supposed that ten years with the same alias would tend to do that.  “Are you loyal to the Soviet Union?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you loyal to the KGB?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you loyal to America or the CIA?”

 

“No.”

 

Jack frowned.  He asked a question that wasn’t on the list.  “Where do your loyalties lie?”

 

“With myself.  With my family.”

 

Jack raised his eyebrows at that, but pressed on.  “Since you were discovered by the CIA, have you truthfully answered all questions asked by the CIA?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you intend to cooperate fully with the CIA?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you intend to tell the KGB of your discovery by the CIA?”

 

There was a pause, and then Laura sneezed.  A moment later, her body went rigid, and she let out an ear-piercing scream.  Shit.  The sneeze had knocked her out of Twilight and right into a hallucination.  Jack stood and quickly but carefully removed the IV line, then shut off the tape recorder almost as an afterthought.  He glanced at the heart rate monitor, which now read 126.  Worrisome, but not dangerous.

 

He bent and gingerly took her by the shoulders, ready to let go if she reacted negatively.  She did, twisting to try to get out of his grasp; he let her go.  “Laura,” he called in what he hoped was a soothing voice.  “Laura, it’s all right.  You’re safe.”

 

She sat up abruptly, her eyes open but clearly not seeing him.  “Nyet, Papa.  Pozhalujsta!”  {No, Papa.  Please!}  She jerked back down to the bed quickly, as though she’d been hit.  “Mama, Mama,” she cried.  She turned to her side, put her arm over her eyes, and began to sob like a child.

 

Her father again, Jack thought with a frown.  “Irina, it’s all right,” he said in Russian.  “You’re safe.  He can’t hurt you anymore.”  He touched her shoulders again, and this time she didn’t pull away.  Carefully, he got onto the bed and climbed over her, then pulled her into his arms and let her sob against his chest.

 

*****

 

Chapter 32

 

Irina shut her eyes in terror as she fell, then opened them when she stopped with a jerk.  She looked up to see that she was standing in front of the apartment building where she lived with her parents.  She was nine years old, and she was coming back from her music lesson.  She hummed the song she’d been working on as she opened the door and started up the stairs to their third-floor apartment.

 

Something was wrong.  A part of her was telling her to stop, that this wasn’t right, that something horrible was about to happen.  But she kept humming, kept climbing the stairs, unable to stop.  As she reached the second floor landing, she heard a thump from above, and then her papa’s roar of anger.  She paused, but only for a moment.

 

When she reached the third floor, she sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.  She knew better than to walk in on her papa when he was in a rage, so she waited.  That little voice inside of her screamed that she didn’t want to stay here, didn’t want to see what was going to happen, but she couldn’t move.

 

The apartment door flew open, and Mama came out backwards, followed closely by Papa.  “You bitch,” he screamed.  “What did you do with my money?”

 

“Irina needed new shoes, Boris, I told you that,” Mama said, trying to calm him.

 

He slapped her hard, and Irina winced.  “You know better than to touch my money.  I’ll give you what I see fit.” 

 

He drew back his arm to punch her, and Irina couldn’t stay still any longer.  She jumped up and moved toward him.  “No, Papa.  Please!” she cried.

 

Papa and Mama both turned toward her.  “Irina…” Mama started to say.

 

“Quiet, you little brat!” Papa yelled.  He slapped Irina, and Mama tried to get between them.  Without looking at Mama, he lifted his other hand and pushed her away.  Time slowed down.  Irina watched as her mother stumbled backwards toward the stairs, teetered for a moment on the edge of the top step, and then fell.  Mama didn’t scream, but Irina did.  She ran to the stairs and stopped short.  Mama was lying on the second-floor landing, her eyes wide open, her head cocked at a strange angle.

 

Irina stumbled down the steps, sobbing, almost falling herself.  She heard her father swear softly behind her, saw the neighbors coming out to stare, but didn’t care.  She knelt beside her mother and picked up a limp hand.  “Mama.  Mama,” she said through the tears.  She cried harder, great hiccoughing sobs that made it hard for her to breathe.  Soon the world began to spin, and once more everything went black.

 

***

 

The spinning stopped with a thud, and Irina opened her eyes.  She was in a dim, empty room, lying on her side on the floor.  She was cold.  Suddenly she heard a voice, and jumped.  “Irina, it’s all right.  You’re safe,” the voice said with a strange accent.  She felt her shoulders get warm, as if someone was hugging her.

 

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

 

“It’s Jack,” the voice answered, sounding surprised.  Jack.  She knew that name.  Something moved against her cheek, like someone was touching her. 

 

She jerked back and sat up.  “Where are you?” she said, tears coming into her voice as she looked around frantically.

 

“I’m right here,” Jack’s voice said.  She felt arms wrap around her, felt herself pulled into a warm, solid object. 

 

The embrace felt familiar, but she still only saw the room around her.  Except it didn’t look right, either; it was getting darker, and lines became blurred.  Then the room started spinning around her.  “I can’t see you!”

 

“Close your eyes.”  She did, and instantly felt better, although she was still spinning.

 

Tentatively, she reached up and put her arms around Jack’s solid bulk.  “Jack?”

 

“I’m right here, Laura,” he said, switching both languages and names. 

 

When he said that, she remembered.  She was thirty, not nine, and Jack was her husband.  And her mind felt horribly fuzzy.  She opened her eyes tentatively and was relieved to see the wall of their bedroom.  She pulled back until she could see Jack.  He looked worried.  “Jack?” she whispered again.  Her stomach lurched.  “I don’t feel so good,” she said in English, then put her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes.  She breathed in deeply through her nose, telling herself over and over that she would not throw up in the bed.

 

Jack let go of her and rolled quickly off the bed; a moment later she felt him reach around her.  “Here,” he said.  She opened her eyes and grabbed the bathroom trashcan from him, just in time.  Jack climbed up beside her and brushed the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face.  “You all right?” he asked when she was finished.  She wasn’t, but she knew what he meant, so she nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll be right back.”  He got up again and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth and a capful of mouthwash.  She started shaking slightly as he took the trashcan from her and wiped her face.  He handed her a tissue.  She stared at it for a moment, then used it to blow her nose.  She rinsed her mouth when he handed her the mouthwash; when she didn’t move for a moment after that, he took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her down to the bed.  “God, this didn’t turn out very well, did it?” he said as he pulled the blankets up over her.

 

She stared at him as she got dizzy again.  Her head suddenly started to ache.  “Jack?”

 

He frowned.  “You’ve still got the drugs in your system.  Try to relax, okay?”  She nodded and watched as he picked up the trashcan and carried it into the bathroom, then let her eyes close.

 

*****

 

Chapter 33

 

Jack came back out to the bedroom and set the now-clean trashcan within easy reach.  Laura’s eyes were closed, but she was tense and shaking.  He reached under the blankets and found the heart rate monitor, which read 84.  “How are you feeling, Laura?”

 

“Cold,” she murmured. 

 

Jack frowned.  They only had two light blankets on their bed, and hadn’t needed more since they moved to Los Angeles.  The heavy comforter that had graced their bed during West Virginia winters was packed up in the attic.  Quickly deciding on the best way to get Laura warm, Jack walked around the bed and climbed in beside her.  She relaxed a bit as his arms went around her.  “Better?” he asked.

 

“Mmm-hmm.”  She was still for a moment; then, without opening her eyes, she leaned forward and found Jack’s mouth with her own.  Without thinking, he responded.  After a few moments she pulled back, opened her eyes, and smiled at him.  “I love you so much, Jack.” 

 

Not sure how to respond to that, Jack gave her a tight smile.  She leaned in again and lay a trail of kisses down his neck.  When her hands found their way under his shirt, he pulled back.  “Laura, stop this.”

 

She frowned.  “What’s wrong, Jack?”

 

“You’re drugged.”  He hadn’t really thought about how she felt about sex, he realized.  She seemed to enjoy it, but maybe she really thought of it as nothing but a tedious chore.  “You don’t have to pretend any more.”

 

She looked confused.  “Pretend?  About what?”

 

“I know you’re a spy, remember?  You don’t have to have sex with me anymore.  You don’t have to pretend you want to.”

 

“But I’ve always wanted to, Jack,” she said with a smile.  She reached out and traced lazy circles on his chest with a finger, grinning mischievously.  “My handler wanted me to wait until we were married.  I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t keep my hands off you.”

 

She kissed him again, but he pushed her away, despite the fact that a certain part of his anatomy was reminding him that it hadn’t had much attention lately.  “We can talk about this more when the drugs wear off.”  He needed to get her mind on something else, he decided.  Quickly.  He wondered if she’d actually talk about her childhood in this state instead of clamming up.  “Laura, tell me about your father.”  As soon as he spoke, he regretted it, realizing that it could send her into another hallucination.

 

He counted himself lucky when she replied in English.  “I don’t want to talk about him, Jack.”  There was a depth of pain and vulnerability in her voice that he’d never heard before.

 

“All right.”  He thought for a moment.  “Tell me about your mother.”

 

Laura smiled.  “Mama.  She tried so hard, Jack.”  She sounded oddly childlike.  “She always loved Papa, even at the end.  She told me how he used to be different, how he was so sweet to her when she married him.”  She switched to Russian without seeming to notice the change, but Jack followed well enough.  “She used to tell me how Papa would hold me so carefully when I was a baby, how he was afraid he would drop me.  I remember when I was very little he used to be nice sometimes, when he wasn’t drunk.  Sometimes he would bring me home a piece of candy or a little toy on the days he got paid, if he could find something.  But he started drinking more and more often, and when he drank he would hit us.”

 

Jack stroked her cheek gently.  “I’m so sorry, Laura.”  He couldn’t imagine growing up like that. 

 

They lay still for a long moment, and then Laura surprised him when she began to speak again.  “He was so happy when Vanya was born.  A daughter was all right, but a son was better.  He even stopped drinking for a few weeks, but then he started again.  And then one day he came home drunk, and Vanya was crying, and Papa took him and started shaking him.”  Tears started to fall as she looked right through Jack.  “Vanya died, and Papa knew it was his fault.  He was never nice after that.” 

 

Jack found himself starting to choke up.  He pulled Laura closer and rocked her back and forth.  She said something, but it was muffled by his body.  He pulled away.  “What was that, Laura?”

 

“He killed Mama.”  Her eyes were closed now, and he could feel the tension in her body.  “He pushed her, and she fell down the stairs.  I hated him after that.  I wanted to leave, but he told me if I ran away he would find me and kill me.  He was the police, he would have done it.”  She opened her eyes, looked directly at him, and spoke in English.  “I never knew that there were men who really cared about women until I met you, Jack.  My superiors in the KGB don’t care.  I’m just a conduit for information.  But you, Jack, you’re different.”  She reached out and caressed his face.  “I fell in love with you before I’d known you for a month.  I should have asked for extraction, because my objectivity was compromised, but I was selfish.  I didn’t want to lose you, Jack.  Later I realized that the longer I stayed, the more it would hurt you when I left, but I kept telling myself that I’d just stay a little while longer.  I love you, Jack.  I don’t ever want to lose you.”

 

Jack held her silently, not sure what to say.  Too much had been revealed, and his thoughts were in a turmoil.

 

“Jack?”  She looked at him curiously.

 

“It’s all right, Laura.  Just close your eyes and rest, okay?”

 

She murmured assent and snuggled into his chest trustingly.  Jack held her close as, for the first time since he’d learned of her duplicity, tears began to fall down his cheeks.

 

*****

 

Chapter 34

 

After a while, Jack lifted his head up to see the clock.  He’d marked the time when he’d injected the drug, and almost an hour had passed.  Laura’s breathing had gotten deep and even, and he was pretty sure she had fallen asleep.

 

Had she really fallen in love with him?  She’d remembered while she was talking to him that he knew she was KGB, so she had no reason to lie.  It made sense, he realized.  If she really did love him, the deception wouldn’t have been that hard, since she’d only had to lie about facts.  And it salvaged his ego a bit to think that she’d really been in love with him, that he hadn’t missed that much after all.  But if she loved him, and if she was no longer loyal to the KGB, why hadn’t she told him the truth?  He’d have to ask her, he decided.

 

Her revelations concerning her father had been horrifying; no wonder she had nightmares and flashbacks.  At the same time, though, he had to admire her strength.  She wasn’t a frightened doormat, but she also hadn’t turned into a cruel monster.  Instead, she was warm and loving, with a fiery temper but also with a wicked sense of humor.  She had never hesitated to make him angry, sometimes doing it on purpose and enjoying the results.  She had never, ever hit Sydney; instead, on the few occasions when it was needed, she came up with creative punishments calculated to cause Sydney the perfect amount of misery to make up for her transgression.

 

Could she really fake all of that?  Could Irina be a completely different woman than the Laura he knew?  He was pretty sure that wasn’t true…which meant that she was still the woman he’d fallen in love with.  Except, of course, for the tiny matter of her lying to him and betraying him for ten years.  Jack sighed into her hair.  They needed to talk, he decided.

 

***

 

When Irina woke up, she was rather surprised to find herself curled up against a warm, solid object that could only be Jack.  She pulled back and opened her eyes to see him looking back at her.  “Jack?” she said softly.  “Did it work?”

 

“Sort of,” he answered.  “How do you feel?”

 

She considered for a moment.  “My head hurts, and my stomach’s a little queasy.  And…”  She frowned, tasting an odd combination of mouthwash and something sour.  “Did I throw up?”

 

He nodded.  “Fortunately, I got you the trashcan in time.  What do you remember?”

 

“I remember you were talking to me, and I couldn’t understand the words, but I was answering you.  Then I had a nightmare.”  She forced her mind away from the still-vivid memories of her mother’s death.  “I guess I fell asleep after that.  I don’t remember getting sick.”

 

Jack frowned.  “You don’t remember talking to me after that?”

 

She shook her head.  “What did I say?”

 

“You answered most of the questions on the list before you had your hallucination.  And then afterwards…well, you talked about your parents.”

 

Her parents?  Irina was rather alarmed at that.  “What exactly did I say?”

 

Jack seemed reluctant to speak.  He grabbed her hand.  “You told me what your father did to your brother and to your mother.”

 

“I told you that he…that he killed them?”  Jack nodded.  She found herself feeling the same strange relief she’d felt when she realized she no longer had to lie to Jack about the KGB.  “That’s what my hallucination was about.  When my mother died.”

 

“Laura, I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s all right.”  She smiled a little.  “I hardly even think about any of it any more.  I’ve got you and Sydney now.”  Her expression grew serious.  “And the KGB to worry about, and the CIA, and the fact that you hate me now…”

 

“I don’t hate you.”  He squeezed her hand.

 

She looked into his eyes, daring to hope.  “I’m so sorry, Jack.  I never wanted to hurt you.”  She yawned as a sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her.

 

Jack sat up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear; her eyes threatened to tear up at the familiar gesture.  “You should take a nap,” he said.  “Those drugs take a lot out of you.”

 

She smiled ruefully.  “I feel like I’m sleeping my life away.”  She didn’t really want to go to sleep again, but considering that she didn’t feel like she could lift her head off the pillow, it was probably a good idea.

 

Jack smiled as he got out of bed.  “I’ve got a report to write for Dawson.  I’ll leave the doors open, so call if you need anything, okay?”

 

“Okay.”  She smiled at him for a moment, then closed her eyes.  She felt him give her shoulder a gentle squeeze before his footsteps left the room.

 

*****

 

Chapter 35

 

Irina woke, sat up, and decided that she felt much better.  She looked around the room and saw that Jack had cleaned up the IV, the syringes, and everything else; he’d even taken the heart monitor off her wrist.  She must have been sleeping pretty heavily for that not to wake her up.  She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was after two in the afternoon; she’d been either drugged or asleep for close to five hours.

 

She swung her leg around to sit on the edge of the bed and looked around for her crutches, only to spot them on the other side of the room.  She sighed.  Jack must have moved them.  “Jack?” she called, hoping he was in hearing range so she didn’t have to hop across the room.

 

He appeared in the doorway a moment later.  “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.  Do you need something?”

 

“My crutches,” she said, pointing.

 

He frowned and went to get them.  “Sorry about that,” he said as he handed them to her.  “They were in the way, so I moved them, but I forgot to bring them back.  I promise I wasn’t trying to strand you in bed.”

 

She shrugged.  “No harm done.”  She stood and moved toward the dresser.

 

“How’s your stomach?  Can I make you some tea or something?”

 

She turned back toward him.  “Tea would be wonderful.  Thank you.”

 

“Do you want me to bring it up, or…”

 

“No, I’ll come downstairs.”

 

“All right.”  They stood there looking at each other for a moment, and then Jack turned and left the room.

 

***

 

Jack heard Laura coming down the stairs just as he was adding honey and milk to the tea, just the way she liked it.  He carried the tea over to the table as she entered, now fully dressed.  She smiled as she sat down and put her hands around the warm cup.  “Thank you, Jack.”

 

He sat down.  “So is there actually a story behind why you take your coffee black, but your tea with milk and sugar?”  He had always found that little quirk rather unusual, but she’d just said there wasn’t any particular reason.

 

She took a sip of the tea.  “It’s really just what I got used to growing up.  My parents both drank black coffee, so I drank it that way, too.  I only had tea at my music teacher’s house, and she served it with milk and sugar—honey if she could get it.”

 

She’d said something about taking music lessons as a child when she’d joined the church choir four years ago, Jack remembered.  “So you really did take music lessons?”

 

She nodded.  “I took singing lessons for seven years, starting when I was six.  My teacher died when I was thirteen.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you ever sing for me?”

 

Laura frowned and looked down at the table.  “I had about a year of secondary school left when my teacher died, and she wanted me to audition at the Moscow Conservatory after that.  She was retired, but she’d been a professor there.  When she got too sick to teach, she sent me to one of her colleagues to continue my lessons.”  She paused and looked up, and Jack saw tears in her eyes.  “I always thought that my father didn’t care what I did with my time, but apparently he was keeping tabs on me.  My new teacher was a man; I don’t know what my father thought I was doing in his house for an hour, but he beat me that night and forbade me to ever go back.  I told him that I was taking singing lessons, and that I wanted to go to the conservatory.  My father said he’d heard me sing, and that I was horrible.  He said my teachers were just leading me on.”  She looked down at the table again.  “I didn’t go back to lessons, and I didn’t sing again until Sydney was born.  I know it’s irrational, but ever since then I’ve been too nervous to sing in front of anyone by myself.  Except Sydney…I started singing her lullabies when she was a baby.”  She looked up and gave him a small smile.  “I used to sing to her in Russian—only when you weren’t home—but I stopped that when she was six months old.”

 

Jack smiled and took her hand.  “I seriously doubt that a professor of music would give you lessons for seven years if you didn’t sing well, Laura.”

 

“I know.  It’s just…”

 

The phone rang, and Jack got up to answer it.  “Hello?”

 

“May I please speak to Laura Bristow?” a male voice asked.

 

Jack glanced at her, his thoughts instantly going to the KGB.  “May I ask who’s calling?”

 

“This is Dr. Davidson, her advisor.”

 

“Just a minute.”  He took the phone over to her.  “It’s Dr. Davidson.”

 

“Dr. Davidson?” Laura said into the phone.  Jack moved over to the sink and put away the dishes that had been drying since breakfast as he listened to her side of the conversation.  “I’m doing all right.  I’ve got a broken leg, though, and I’m supposed to stay off of it this week.  I haven’t caused you too many problems, have I?”  She paused, then laughed.  “That’s good.  Tell Linda I owe her.”  Another pause.  “Yes, that would be fine.  I’ll see you later, then.”

 

She said goodbye, and Jack came over to take the phone and hung it up.  “He’s coming over?”

 

“He’s just dropping off some papers for me to grade and picking up my lesson plans for the week.  He and one of his other PhD students are covering my classes until I get back.”  She sighed.  “He said he’d be here about 4:30, so I need to go upstairs and work on those lesson plans.”  She stood, then looked at Jack for a moment.  “Thank you for taking care of me today, Jack.  And thank you for not hating me.”

 

He walked over and, to his own surprise, gave her a gentle kiss on the lips.  She looked surprised, but smiled.  They stared at each other briefly, and then Jack said, “Well, I guess you’d better work on those lesson plans.”  She nodded, hesitated a moment more, and then turned and headed out.

 

*****

 

Chapter 36

 

“I’m home!” Sydney called as she came through the front door.

 

Jack got up from his desk, where he’d been continuing to read Flowers for Algernon, and walked to the top of the stairs.  “We’re up here, sweetheart,” he called down, and Sydney ran up the stairs.

 

When she reached him, Jack picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  “How come you don’t go to work no more, Daddy?” she asked as he carried her into the study.

 

“Any more,” Laura corrected, looking up from her lesson plan.  “Hi, baby.  How was school?”

 

“Fine.  How come Daddy doesn’t go to work any more?”

 

Jack chuckled as he set her on her feet.  “I’m just taking a few days off to take care of Mommy, sweetheart.  I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

 

“Oh.  Are you doing your homework, Mommy?”

 

“Yes, Sydney, but I’m almost done.  Do you have any homework?”

 

“A little bit.  Can I draw on your cast?”

 

“Only when all your homework is done.”  She looked at Jack and inclined her head toward Sydney.

 

Catching her meaning and knowing she needed to finish her work, Jack put his hands on Sydney’s shoulders.  “Why don’t we go downstairs so you can start your homework, Sydney?”  On the way out, he grabbed the empty bowl and spoon perched on the edge of Laura’s desk—he had thought after she’d gone upstairs that she should probably get something into her stomach besides tea, so he’d made her a bowl of soup.

 

“Can I have a snack first, Daddy?” Sydney asked as they got out in the hallway.

 

“Umm…”  Jack wasn’t really sure if Sydney was supposed to have an after-school snack; he was virtually never home this early.

 

“She can have the rest of the soup, Jack,” Laura called from the study.

 

“Soup sound good, Sydney?”

 

“Yeah.”  Jack took his daughter’s hand and took her downstairs.

 

***

 

“Mommy, don’t forget about my Halloween costume!” Sydney said, coming into the kitchen after practicing the piano.  “We have to go get it tonight.”

 

Irina pushed her wet hair out of her face.  Her advisor had come and gone, and she had finally found time to wash her hair in the kitchen sink.  “I know, sweetheart, we’ll go after dinner so that my hair has a chance to dry.”

 

“Okay.  Can I draw on your cast now?”

 

“As soon as I’m finished.”  She rinsed the conditioner from her hair, twisted the water out, and wrapped it in a towel while Sydney went up to her room and came back with markers.  She turned to see Sydney sitting at the table, fidgeting impatiently.   “Let’s go in the den.”  A few minutes later, Irina was settled on the couch with her leg propped up on the coffee table, while Sydney sat on the floor considering her canvas.  “Tell me about school today, Sydney,” she said as Sydney began to draw.  “Besides that it was fine.”

 

“We had tryouts for the Thanksgiving play at recess.”

 

“You tried out?”

 

“Uh-huh, but I don’t find out if I got a part until tomorrow.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll get a very good part, sweetheart.”

 

Sydney continued to chatter as she colored for about twenty minutes.  Then Jack came in and smiled when he saw them.  He sat down on the couch and put his arm around Irina’s shoulders; she smiled at him.  Despite the hallucination and the nagging stomachache and headache that she still had, Irina was glad she’d gone through with the drugs; whatever she’d said had had a marvelous effect on Jack.  He was acting almost normal.  “How’s the drawing going?” he asked Sydney.

 

“Good,” Sydney said.

 

“That’s good.  Does Chinese food sound good for dinner?”

 

“Yeah!  I want cashew chicken,” Sydney said eagerly.

 

“How about you, Laura?”

 

“Moo goo gai pan, please.”

 

Jack frowned.  “Is your stomach still bothering you?”  She normally ordered something spicy when they got Chinese.

 

“Just a little bit.”

 

“Okay.”  He kissed her cheek.  “I’ll go call the order in.”  Irina smiled as she watched him leave.

 

*****

 

Chapter 37

 

“Mommy?” Sydney asked as Irina put the book on the bookshelf.  “Will you sing me a lullaby?”  Sydney’s new Halloween costume was safe in the closet, she’d had her bath, and Irina was tucking her into bed.

 

“A lullaby?”  Irina couldn’t remember the last time Sydney had asked her for a lullaby; she hadn’t asked at least since she started first grade.  She sat down by her daughter’s bed again.  “What would you like me to sing?”  When Sydney had been a baby, she had been so small and doll-like that Irina hadn’t even thought to be self-conscious about singing to her, and her ease with her daughter hadn’t changed as Sydney had grown.

 

“The one about the roses,” Sydney answered without much thought.  It had long been her favorite. 

 

“It’s called Brahms’s lullaby,” Irina said with a smile.  It was her favorite lullaby as well.  She took a deep breath and began to sing.

 

“Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight,
With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed.
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.

”Lullaby and good night, thy mother's delight.
Bright angels beside my darling abide.
They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.
They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.”

 

“Goodnight, Sydney,” Irina said as she bent to kiss Sydney’s forehead.  “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Sydney murmured sleepily.

 

Irina got her crutches and headed out.  When she opened the door, though, she was surprised to see Jack standing there.  He smiled at her, and she raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the butterflies that had suddenly appeared in her stomach.  Had he been listening?  Mindful of Sydney drifting off to sleep a few feet away, she didn’t say anything; she simply swung herself down the hall to their bedroom.

 

Jack came in behind her.  “You have a wonderful voice, Laura.”

 

She turned.  “You were listening.”

 

He smiled.  “I suppose I should confess that I set the whole thing up.  I asked Sydney to ask you to sing.”

 

She glared at him.  “You…”  He just kept smiling at her, and she quickly found that she couldn’t hold the glare, since she wasn’t really angry—she had set herself up for it by telling him that she sang to Sydney, after all.  She smiled slightly.  “You really liked it?”

 

He came forward and pulled her into a hug.  “I really liked it,” he said softly into her ear.  “I’m not any kind of music expert, but you sing beautifully.  You will sing the solo, won’t you?”

 

She pulled back and smiled at him while swiping at the betraying tear that had escaped her eye.  “I’ll try,” she whispered.

 

Jack smiled and, surprising her for the hundredth time that day, leaned in and gave her a long but gentle kiss.

 

***

 

The next day, Jack walked into CIA headquarters at his usual time.  He’d wanted to talk to Laura last night, to see what differences there were between the façade and the true woman, but when he’d come out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth she’d been asleep.  She’d still looked tired this morning, and he’d suggested that she take a nap after Sydney left, but she’d seemed rather annoyed at the prospect of more sleep.  He hoped she’d take his advice.

 

Arvin stopped him as he approached his desk.  “Jack, Dawson wants to see you in his office.”

 

Jack wasn’t surprised, but as he entered the office, he was surprised to see another man there, one who looked vaguely familiar.  His suspicions were confirmed when Dawson spoke.  “Director Levy, this is Agent Jack Bristow.”

 

Jack felt a cold spike of dread.  Had the director of the entire CIA come all the way from Washington just to talk about his wife?

 

*****

 

Chapter 38

 

“Agent Bristow,” Director Levy said, his expression betraying nothing.  “Have a seat.”  Jack did so.  Levy took a seat as well and nodded to Dawson, who also sat.  Levy studied Jack for a moment before speaking again.  “Agent Bristow, you must realize that the discovery of your wife’s deception is a major event.  The fact that she was able to remain undercover for so long, and to gather so much information, is quite frankly a travesty, and requires severe reevaluation of the Agency’s security protocols.  And from what Director Dawson has told me, you are far from blameless.”

 

“I realize that, sir.”  Jack had spent a great deal of the past few days berating himself.  In addition to the classified projects that he’d flat-out discussed with her, there were all the documents he’d brought home and left unsecured on his desk or in his briefcase, all the times he’d opened his safe with her in the room undoubtedly observing the combination—hell, more than once he’d asked her to get him something from the safe and told her the combination, then forgotten to change it for days or weeks.  “I can only say that I deeply regret my lack of discretion.”

 

 “You’re lucky, you know,” Levy said.  “If both Irina Derevko and her former handler hadn’t insisted that you knew nothing, you would have had a hard time convincing us that you weren’t assisting her.”

 

Jack hadn’t even thought of that possibility.  “Sir, I assure you that I would never willingly do anything against the interests of this country.”

 

“I understand that.  However, I am going to order that a formal reprimand be placed in your file.”  Jack nodded.  He had expected at least that much.  “And now we must deal with the current situation.  I have to say that I am not entirely in agreement with Director Dawson’s actions; however, now that things have been instigated, we might as well see them through.  I will be keeping a very close eye on the situation from Washington, of course.”  Jack nodded, and Levy looked to Dawson to continue.

 

“Agent Bristow, did you attempt Twilight on Derevko?”  It took Jack a moment to process the fact that “Derevko” meant Laura; he nodded.  “And did it work?”

 

“Briefly,” Jack said.  He dug in his briefcase and pulled out the tape and his report on what had happened, then handed them to Dawson.  The report was rather edited, leaving out Jack’s conversation with Laura after her hallucination.  “I got most of the way through the list before she sneezed and went into a hallucination.”

 

Dawson skimmed the report, then handed it to Levy while Jack sat uncomfortably.  “Anything else to report?” Dawson asked when Levy was finished.

 

“She had a visit from her handler in the hospital early Sunday morning.  He was concerned because she was in the naval hospital, but she convinced him that nothing was wrong.”

 

“Hmm.  I think a review of the hospital’s security protocols is in order, Mr. Dawson,” Levy said.  Dawson nodded.  Levy turned to Jack.  “Director Dawson said that you were quite clearly not in favor of his actions on Thursday night.  Quite understandable, since you’re the one that has to live with her.  How do you feel now?”

 

Jack considered how to answer for a moment.  He knew that whatever he said had a good possibility of getting him in trouble.  “Her responses while in Twilight indicate that she is sincere in her desire to cooperate with the CIA,” he said carefully.  “In light of that, I think we have a great opportunity here.”

 

Levy frowned.  “Nice professional answer, Bristow.  But I’m well aware that this intimately affects just about every aspect of your life.  How do you really feel?”

 

Jack was taken aback.  The general rule in the CIA was that the personal feelings of its agents were to be kept private, the assumption being that the agent would deal with them on his own.  “I…I’m not really sure, sir,” he answered somewhat more honestly.  “It was a very big shock, and I’m still working through it.”

 

Levy nodded.  “Now that you’ve had some time to think things over…did you ever suspect anything?  Was there ever anything that just didn’t add up?”

 

“Small things,” Jack answered.  “Nothing big enough to make me even consider that she might be a spy, just…a few popular culture references that were unfamiliar, that sort of thing.”

 

“I see,” Levy said.  “I want to talk to Derevko myself this afternoon.  Director Dawson has a plan to get her in here.”

 

Dawson nodded.  “Her doctor at the hospital, Dr. Nielson, recommended counseling for her—‘unresolved childhood trauma’ was the reason he gave.  I really don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but the important thing is that we now have a plausible reason to bring Derevko in for debriefings.  I think seeing a CIA psychologist would be a good thing as well, for both of you.”  Jack raised his eyebrows.  He hadn’t realized that Laura’s doctor had suggested counseling—she hadn’t mentioned it to him—and he certainly hadn’t expected Dawson to send either one of them to a shrink.  Dawson continued, “We’ll work out the details of the counseling later.  She probably can’t drive with that leg, can she?”

 

“No.”

 

“All right.  Call her and have her take a cab in; tell her it’s for the counseling.”

 

“Our daughter gets out of school at 3:30,” Jack pointed out.

 

Levy and Dawson looked at each other.  “I’ll make sure I’m done with her by three,” Levy said.  “Now I have some other things to attend to; let me know when she gets here.”  With that, he left Dawson’s office.

 

“Agent Bristow, I’m pulling you out of the field for the next month or so.”  Jack nodded.  He’d been planning to request that anyway; he needed to be around until Laura was off the crutches.  “Your immediate assignment is to write a report about your initial meeting with your wife.  I want to know when, where, and how you met, what she told you about her history, her behavior, anything you can think of.  Finding out how the KGB operates in this sort of situation will be very helpful in preventing something like this from happening again.”

 

That was a reasonable request, Jack thought.  He’d been afraid that the CIA would want a report on every detail of his and Laura’s lives for the past ten years.  “Yes, sir.”

 

Dawson dismissed him; as Jack left his office, he mused that it could have been much worse.

 

*****

 

Chapter 39

 

Irina introduced herself at the reception desk of the CIA building as Laura Bristow; moments later, a young agent showed up to escort her to a small room containing nothing but a table and three chairs.  She’d gotten rather worried since Jack’s call; she knew perfectly well that she wasn’t really there for counseling.  She’d been expecting that the CIA would want to know far more than what she’d told Dawson during their brief discussion after she’d been captured, but she hadn’t thought they’d bring her in so soon.

 

“Someone will be with you in a moment,” the young agent said, then left, locking the door behind him.  Irina sat down, shaking her head at the absurdity of the idea that she could possibly do any harm with CIA agents everywhere, especially considering the broken leg.

 

About five minutes passed before the door opened again.  Irina bit back a gasp of shock as she recognized the first man through the door: Curtis Levy, the director of the CIA.  They must think she was far more important than she actually was.  He was followed by another agent, not so young as the one who had brought her here, who carried a tape recorder.  Irina waited silently, keeping her expression neutral, while the younger agent set up the tape recorder and then left.

 

Levy sat down.  “Miss Derevko, I’m Agent Levy.  I’ve got a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

 

Surely he knew that she would recognize his name if she hadn’t recognized his face, she thought.  Oh, well; she would play along.  “Of course,” she said.  “My daughter gets out of school at 3:30, so I’ll need to be home by then.”  It was currently just after ten, and she fully expected to be there for the next five hours.

 

“Yes, Agent Bristow mentioned that,” Levy said.  He opened the file folder he’d brought with him, positioning it so she couldn’t see the contents.  “Your daughter Sydney.  She’s six years old?”  Irina nodded.  “Did you get pregnant in order to cement your relationship with Agent Bristow?”

 

Irina frowned.  She was tempted to respond with righteous indignation, but she knew better.  This man outranked Dawson and could overrule her agreement with Dawson and give her the death penalty if he so chose.  If she convinced him of her sincerity, though, she would have little to worry about from the CIA.  “No,” she answered calmly.  “I didn’t intend to get pregnant at all.”  She paused; he remained silent.  Long pauses were a valuable tool in an interrogation; when the questioner didn’t say anything, the subject tended to try to justify himself.  Irina knew this, but was quite comfortable with silence; she said nothing.

 

“Were your superiors at the KGB in favor of your pregnancy?”

 

“Absolutely not.  I was reprimanded for being lax with my birth control.”

 

“Did they encourage you to have an abortion?”

 

“When I informed my handler of my pregnancy, it was already too late for an abortion,” Irina replied as she realized why Levy was asking her these seemingly irrelevant questions rather than finding out what classified information she’d passed on to the KGB: he was trying to figure out why she had turned on her country.

 

Levy flipped through the pages of his folder.  Irina’s suspicions were confirmed when he asked, “When did you stop feeling loyalty toward your country?”

 

She still loved her country; it was the current government that she couldn’t care less about, Irina thought.  But there was no need to correct Levy on that point.  She steeled herself against emotion.  “Three years ago, I became pregnant again.  My superiors ordered me to abort; when a week went by and I did nothing, they drugged my food at a restaurant and induced an abortion.”  She paused.  “I did some research on the drugs they gave me; they were quite dangerous and could very easily have killed me.  I realized at that point how little my superiors valued me.  It would have been far less hassle for them, and less risk for me, to simply allow me to continue the pregnancy.  But I was able to give them less information during my pregnancy with Sydney and her infancy, due to both Jack’s desire to stay home more and my decreased mobility; because of that, they deemed another child unacceptable.”

 

“And so at that point you stopped being loyal to the KGB?”  Levy didn’t look convinced.

 

“Yes,” she answered simply.  The truth was somewhat more complex than that, of course; she’d been feeling discontent for some time, but it was nothing she could put into words.

 

Levy frowned.  “Yet you continued to serve the KGB for three years.  Why didn’t you turn yourself in?”

 

“I never thought that the US government would make me a double agent; I assumed I’d get the death penalty if I ever turned myself in.  The KGB would have retaliated by killing my husband and daughter.”  She paused.  “They still will, if they discover what I’ve done.”

 

“I see.  Did you ever consider telling Agent Bristow?”

 

“No.  That would have put him in a very difficult position; I would have been forcing him to choose between his wife and his country.”

 

“I see.”  Levy looked through his folder again, then looked up.  “Miss Derevko, you’re aware of my position within the agency,” he stated.  Irina nodded.  “I’m going to honor your agreement with Director Dawson.  However, we will be keeping a very close eye on you and your actions.  Is that understood?”

 

“Of course.”  She’d expected nothing less.

 

“Good.  Now let’s get into some more specifics about what exactly you’ve been doing over the last ten years.”

 

Irina allowed herself to relax just a bit.  The worst was over; she would be allowed to stay with Jack and Sydney as long as she could keep the KGB happy and avoid extraction.  And afterwards…well, as she had for the past ten years, she would avoid thinking about afterwards.

 

*****

 

Chapter 40

 

By noon, Irina was feeling more than a bit frazzled, though she kept it from showing.  Levy was a skilled interrogator, and not inclined to be particularly nice even though she was cooperating fully.  She saw him glance at his watch and hoped that he was getting ready to break for lunch.

 

No such luck, she thought as he launched into another question.  “How closely does the KGB keep tabs on you?  Surveillance and such?”

 

“Sporadically at this point,” she answered.  “For the past few years I’ve noticed a tail on average five or six times a year.  Of course, that means there are probably just as many that I don’t notice.”

 

“Hmm.  Were you followed here?”

 

“I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell from the back of a cab.  There’s almost certainly a camera with a view of our house, though; they’ll know I’ve gone out.”  One agent usually monitored several such cameras, writing down who was coming and going; it was possible that he would miss either her departure or arrival, but almost impossible that he’d miss both.

 

“All right.  I don’t want to endanger your cover by keeping you here too long, so we’ll stop for now.  However, since your “counseling session” is ending at noon, it would be logical for you to stay and have lunch with your husband, yes?”  She nodded.  “All right, then.  Stay here, and I’ll send him to pick you up; you can go home after that.  I’ll send a list of questions home with Agent Bristow that I’d like you to write up answers to; just send them back with him.”  He reached over and turned off the tape recorder, then looked at her for a long moment.  She stared back impassively.  “It’s very dangerous, what you’re doing,” he said.  “Not just to you, either.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you have any family in Russia that the KGB might retaliate against if you’re discovered?”

 

She wondered if her father was still alive, and if anyone in the KGB might think that hurting him would bother her.  Was Levy offering to try to protect her family in Russia?  He was delusional if he thought that had any chance of success.  It didn’t matter, she decided.  “No, there’s no one.”

 

Levy nodded.  “Thank you, Miss Derevko.”  With that, he turned and left the room.  He didn’t lock the door, she noticed.

 

***

 

Lunch was uneventful; Jack took Laura to a café down the street from his office, and they talked about unimportant things for the benefit of anyone who might be listening.  He returned to work and worked on Dawson’s report uneventfully until shortly after five.

 

An hour and a half later, he stood at a pay phone at a mechanic’s shop.  “Hello?” Sydney’s voice said on the other end of the line.

 

“Hi, sweetheart, it’s Daddy.”

 

“It’s Daddy, Mommy!” he heard Sydney call out.  “Mommy was worried cause you’re late.”

 

“Let me talk to her, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

A moment later, Laura’s voice came on, sounding worried.  “Jack?  Is everything all right?”

 

“The car broke down.  The transmission.  I didn’t get a chance to call before.”

 

“Oh, God, I forgot all about that.  Where are you?”

 

“At the repair shop.  They said it would be about an hour.”

 

“All right.  Do you want me to keep dinner warm, or are you going to pick up something while you wait?”

 

“I’ll grab something here.  See you soon.”  He hesitated for a moment, remembering that the phone line might be bugged.  “I love you.”

 

There was the briefest of pauses on the other end, followed by, “Love you, too.”

 

“Me too, Daddy!” he heard Sydney call.

 

He chuckled.  “Tell Sydney I love her, too.  Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

He hung up the phone and headed to a nearby diner.

 

***

 

Alexander Khasinau listened to the phone conversation through the tap on the Bristows’ phone line in silence, then turned to Leon Volsky.  Volsky had sent word that he thought something strange might be going on with Irina Derevko; since he hadn’t been her handler very long, he wanted a second opinion.  Khasinau had been on his way back from Washington anyway and had stopped over in LA to investigate.

 

“Well, that sounded normal enough,” Khasinau said.  “They both sounded a bit stressed, but that seems normal given what’s been going on in the last week.  Now, you were telling me about Derevko’s day?”

 

“Her husband called her shortly after nine this morning and said that he wanted her to go into the CIA building for counseling.  He mentioned something about her doctor in the hospital recommending it.  It seems rather odd to me,” Volsky said.  “She left shortly after and returned about one p.m.”

 

“Yes, it is odd.”  Khasinau considered for a moment.  He’d been thinking for a while that it was time to pull Irina out; there wasn’t any particular reason, but her mission was getting ridiculously long.  Valenko had been vocally in favor of extraction, but then, Valenko had gotten himself discovered by the CIA and was now dead.  “I’d like to see her records for the hospital stay.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Volsky said.  “I’ll have a copy for you by morning.”

 

“Good.  I’ll see you then.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 41

 

At 8:15, Irina was sitting in bed, Sydney nestled beside her, trying not to fall asleep as Linus waited for the Great Pumpkin on television.  Sydney had had her bath and was in her nightgown, and had requested to watch the Peanuts Halloween special instead of her usual bedtime story.

 

Irina woke up a bit when she heard the garage door; Jack was finally home.  A few minutes later, he came into the bedroom.  “How are my girls?” he asked with a smile, coming over and giving Sydney a kiss on the cheek and Irina a quick peck on the lips.

 

“Quiet, Daddy, we’re watching Peanuts,” Sydney said.

 

“Oh, well then,” Jack said with a grin.  He slipped his shoes off and made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, on the other side of Sydney.

 

The three of them watched the rest of the show; when it ended, Irina stood and grabbed her crutches.  “All right, bedtime, Sydney.”

 

“Don’t forget my story, Mommy!”

 

“This was your story, remember?” Irina said, gesturing toward the TV.  Sydney’s slightly pouty expression clearly showed that she had remembered, but had been hoping that her mother wouldn’t.

 

“I can put her to bed if you want, Laura,” Jack said, getting up.

 

“No, Jack, I’ll do it.  Can I talk to you in the den in a few minutes?”

 

“Of course,” Jack answered, looking slightly surprised.  Irina didn’t know why; it was high time they talked.  She gave him a reassuring smile and shepherded Sydney out of the room.

 

***

 

“Did everything go all right today?” Jack asked when she entered the den, where he’d taken a seat in an armchair.

 

“Yes, it was all right,” Irina answered as she settled herself on the couch with her leg stretched out in front of her.  She took a deep breath.  “Jack, we need to talk about…about what’s going to happen.”

 

Jack sighed.  “I was afraid of that.”

 

Irina considered briefly how to phrase what she was going to say, but decided that being blunt was the best strategy.  “Before all this happened—before I got caught—I was expecting that the KGB would extract me within the next few months.”

 

Jack frowned.  “And you were just going to go?  Just leave us?”

 

“Protesting an extraction order would be seen as a sign that I was growing too attached.  The KGB would respond by removing the source of the attachment,” Irina responded as calmly as possible.

 

“You mean…”

 

“They would kill you and Sydney.”  She paused.  “Now, when the KGB decides to extract me, the CIA is going to try to get me first.  If they’re successful, you and Sydney will have to go into hiding.  If the KGB do get me, they’ll leave you and Sydney alone—as long as they don’t know that I’ve betrayed them.”

 

Jack looked at her uncertainly for a moment.  “Laura, what are you saying?”

 

Irina sighed.  “I’m saying that I think you should try to convince your superiors to let the KGB extract me when the time comes.”

 

“But then, what if they find out that you’ve been working with the CIA?”

 

“If they know before they extract me, they’ll kill us all before the CIA has a chance to do anything.  If they merely suspect, they’ll send me to prison for interrogation.” 

 

Jack looked surprised and, for a moment, almost frightened, but quickly settled upon a stoic expression.  “How can you sit there and talk about going to prison so casually?”

 

“Because I’ve been preparing myself for it for awhile now; even if they don’t suspect anything, the KGB will feel the need to re-educate me because my mission’s been so long.”

 

“Wouldn’t it be better to let the CIA pull you out?  We’d have to resettle somewhere under new names, but at least we could be together…I don’t want Sydney to lose her mother,” he added quickly.

 

Irina realized that the CIA must not have told Jack the terms of her deal.  “Jack, the CIA will put me in prison.”

 

“What?”  He looked completely shocked, further convincing Irina that he didn’t know the whole story.

 

“My deal with Dawson was that I would avoid the death penalty by cooperating.  Once I’m no longer useful as a double agent, they’ll send me to prison.”

 

“Oh, God.  I can’t believe…don’t they know you’re risking your life?”

 

She raised her eyebrows.  “I’ve been stealing secrets from your government for ten years, Jack.  They’re not going to be inclined toward leniency.”  Jack frowned, but didn’t say anything, so she continued.  “If you can convince the CIA to let the KGB extract me, we can set up a procedure for me to contact the CIA once I’m back in Russia.  I can still work as a double agent; in fact, I’ll be able to give the CIA a lot more information there than I can here.  And my deal with Dawson is that the longer I work undercover, the shorter my prison sentence will be.”

 

Jack sighed.  “How long do you have to be a double agent before they don’t send you to prison?”

 

“Ten years.”

 

He considered that for a moment.  “I suppose that’s fair, but…God, Laura, Sydney will be sixteen in ten years.  What the hell am I supposed to tell her when…when you’re gone?”

 

Irina pressed her lips together.  “The KGB will fake my death somehow.  The only thing you can tell her is that I’m dead.”  Jack looked her full in the face, his eyes full of pain.  “Jack, by the time I can come back, she’ll be old enough to understand the truth, but in the meantime…”

 

“Yes,” Jack said softly.  “I suppose it’s the only way.”  There was silence for several moments.

 

Irina yawned, then swung her leg out and grabbed her crutches.  “We should get to bed, Jack.  We can talk more about this later.”  She hoped that with some time to think about it, he would realize that there was no good solution to the dilemma they found themselves in; hers was the best, but far from perfect.

 

“Yes,” he said, getting up from his chair.  They went upstairs in silence.

 

*****

 

Chapter 42

 

Jack came out of the bathroom to find Laura changing into her nightgown; she glanced at him as he got into bed.  He watched her back as she slipped the gown over her head and then disappeared into the bathroom, thoughts whirling through his mind.  He couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea that he was going to lose her, one way or another; he’d only just been starting to believe that things might work out despite who she was.

 

She came out of the bathroom and got into bed beside him, then reached over and turned out her lamp, leaving the room in darkness.  Jack considered for a moment, then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.  “If you were never supposed to have children, why did you tell me that you wanted two?”

 

Laura rolled to face him.  “My handler told me to agree with whatever you said about children.  At the time, no one anticipated that my mission would last this long.”

 

“If it were up to you, if they didn’t care, would you have wanted children?”

 

She frowned and was silent for a moment.  “Under the circumstances, no.  Because I don’t think it would be…fair to choose to conceive a child that I’ll have to abandon one day.  But Jack, if things were different…if we were normal, I’d want Sydney to have a brother or sister.”

 

Jack debated for a moment whether to voice the idea that had been forming since Laura had first made the situation clear.  If there were any way out of this mess, he decided, they had to try to find it together.  “What if we just disappeared?  You, me, and Sydney?  Away from both the KGB and the CIA?”

 

“You would do that?”  Jack could hear the surprise in her voice.  “Just abandon your country?”

 

“If it’s the only way to keep our family together,” he answered.

 

“Jack, are you sure you want to live like that?  We’d spend our whole lives looking over our shoulders, waiting for one government or the other to catch up to us.  And then, when one of them does find us, what happens to Sydney?  Even if it’s the CIA and they don’t kill her, she would lose both her parents instead of just one.”

 

“If we plan it carefully, Laura, I know we can disappear.  People get found because they make mistakes.  But we know how they would look for us.  I know the CIA, you know the KGB…between the two of us, we can make it work.”  He hadn’t acknowledged it before, but he realized as he spoke that Laura was just as good a spy as he was, if not better.  If anyone could successfully disappear from the eyes of both the KGB and the CIA, the two of them ought to be able to do it.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Laura said after a long silence.  “But Jack…”  He waited to hear her reasons why it wouldn’t work, but she surprised him.  “Are you sure you want to live with me for the rest of your life?  I’m not the woman you thought you married.  I’ve killed people, Jack.”  He said nothing, not knowing how to respond.  After a moment, she continued softly, “When Sydney was a year old, my handlers gave me a side assignment.  I suspect it was meant to be…my payback for being allowed to keep my child.  Over the course of a year, I assassinated twelve CIA agents.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 43

 

“Oh, God,” Jack whispered.  He remembered that year, the barely concealed fear that came around the middle of every month as they all wondered who would be next.  The first killing had been May 14, 1976, his wedding anniversary; the next to last had been March 16, 1977 his birthday; and the last was April 17, Sydney’s second birthday.  Six shot, three stabbed, two strangled, and one—Bill Vaughn, whose office had been next to Jack’s—killed by a car bomb.  He’d gone to eight of the funerals; Laura hadn’t known any of the men and had had a small child to take care of, so he hadn’t even thought of asking her to go with him.  “The dates…they did that on purpose.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does the CIA know?”

 

“I told Dawson the other night.  So you see why I was surprised that I didn’t get the death penalty.”

 

Jack took a deep breath.  His colleagues, his friends…he’d wondered for four years who had killed them.  Now he knew.  He needed to get away from her, to think.  He sat up.  “I need to be alone,” he said, and left the room.

 

***

 

Irina woke and looked around for Jack, but she was alone in the bed.  She checked the clock and found that it was about 2:30.  She sighed.  She’d stayed awake for an hour waiting for Jack to come back to bed, then dozed fitfully for the next four hours.  She got her crutches and got up to look for him.

 

She found him in Sydney’s room, asleep in the rocking chair near their daughter’s bed, bathed in the warm glow of her nightlight.  She didn’t want to wake him, but she didn’t want to leave him, either, so she carefully lowered herself into a sitting position on the floor and leaned her head against his knee.

 

Some time later, as she was just beginning to doze off, she felt Jack shift above her; a moment later, his fingers tangled in her hair.  She tipped her head back and looked up at him.  He met her eyes and gave her the tiniest hint of a smile, and she smiled back.  Then he turned his gaze to Sydney.  “She’s so beautiful,” he whispered.  “So innocent.  I used to think the same thing about you.  I used to feel so bad, telling you about my missions, the awful things I had to do.  I didn’t think you could possibly understand what it felt like to kill someone.  Some part of me wanted you to understand, in some strange, sick way.”  He slid from the chair to sit beside her, hip to hip.

 

 “I’ve always understood,” Irina whispered back.  “And some part of me has always wanted you to know how well I understood, too.  I know there’s no pleasure in it, even in killing your enemy, someone who would kill you, even though the adrenaline rush might sometimes make you feel exhilarated.  But sometimes…sometimes it just has to be done.”  They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, understanding each other more deeply than they ever had before.  Irina had until this point avoided making physical gestures, letting him set the pace as they rebuilt their relationship, but now she couldn’t help herself.  She reached up and ran her fingers across his cheek, his ear, the back of his neck, and then pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply.

 

He responded, taking her head in his hands and pressing his tongue against hers.  After what seemed a blissful eternity, they pulled apart, both needing to breathe.  “We should go to our room,” Jack said.  She could see the desire in his eyes.

 

She nodded, suddenly craving his touch.  He stood, and then surprised her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to their bedroom.  “My crutches…” she said as they entered their room.

 

“Later.”  He lay her on the bed and seized her mouth once more as she fumbled with the buttons on his pajama top.  He broke and reached for her nightgown, then stopped.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  I mean…”

 

She made a sound that was almost a growl.  “Would I be undressing you if I didn’t want this, Jack?”  She freed the last button on his top and pushed it off his shoulders.

 

“Good point,” he replied, then helped her free herself from her nightgown.  There were no more words after that, as they allowed themselves to be consumed by their hunger for each other. 

 

*****

 

Chapter 44

 

Irina woke and didn’t want to move; she was far too comfortable nestled against Jack, chest to chest.  But the alarm was going off.

 

She was about to shake him awake when he opened his eyes and rolled away to turn off the alarm.  Then he turned back and kissed her.  “Laura,” he said afterwards, “I’m not going to give up on you.  No matter what other revelations you might have.  We’re going to figure out some way to keep our family together.”

 

Irina started to wonder if maybe, with Jack apparently completely on her side, they might be able to manage it.  “All right,” she said.  “But talk to Dawson about finding a way for me to get in touch if I should get extracted anyway.”  It would be impractical for them to try to disappear while she still had a cast on, since that would call attention to them wherever they disappeared to; she didn’t think she would be extracted before she was fully healed, but it was always possible.

 

“All right,” he said.  “Hopefully it will keep anyone at the CIA from suspecting that we might be planning our own move.”

 

She frowned.  She had envied him his patriotism over the last few years, as her own had withered up and died.  “Jack, I could never ask you to betray your country.  Please, think about this and make sure it’s what you really want to do.”

 

“Some things are more important than any country,” Jack answered immediately.  He watched her for a moment, then sighed.  “All right, I’ll think about it, but I’m pretty sure my conclusion will be the same.”

 

“Thank you.”  She kissed him gently.  “And we’re only going to go through with this if we’ve got a good plan.  Sydney’s safety is the most important thing.”

 

“Of course.”  He squeezed her hand, then got up.  “I’ll go get your crutches.”  She smiled after him.  It would be a miracle if it all worked out, but it was beginning to look like it just might be possible.

 

***

 

That afternoon, Alexander Khasinau accepted a copy of Laura Bristow’s hospital records from Leon Volsky, then made him wait as he looked through them.  He frowned when he got to the doctor’s notes about Irina’s broken bones.  He knew about her history with her father, of course, but had never expected it to become an issue.  She’d been tested during her KGB training to make sure that she was capable of dealing with injury and aggressive men, but they’d never anticipated questions from a medical professional on the subject.  He read further and discovered the doctor’s recommendations for counseling; that explained Irina’s activities yesterday, then.  He shut the folder and was about to hand it to Volsky to be destroyed when he noticed the time of admission: 11:58 p.m.  He addressed Volsky.  “What time did your meeting with her finish on Thursday?”

 

Volsky frowned.  “I left around 10.”

 

Khasinau considered for a moment.  If Volsky had left first, of course Derevko would have waited a short while before leaving.  But even with Irina waiting to leave the hotel, her time driving, and transit time to the hospital, there was as much as an hour of time that was unaccounted for.  His mind immediately started going through scenarios, from the worst—Irina had been discovered by the CIA and somehow brainwashed or otherwise induced to hide her discovery from the KGB—to the most innocuous—perhaps the accident simply hadn’t been discovered for an hour.  Irina had suffered a broken leg, after all, and wouldn’t have been able to go for help herself.  In any case, it was worth investigating further.  “I want the police reports on the accident.  Also, I’ll need information on where the accident occurred—traffic patterns on that road, distance from both the hotel and the Bristow home, whether that was a logical route.”

 

Volsky nodded.  “Of course, sir.  I can get it for you by tomorrow morning.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 45

 

Dawson looked at Jack with an incredulous expression.  “You want us to let her go back to Russia?”

 

Jack kept his expression neutral.  “I’m passing on her suggestion, sir.  By allowing her to be extracted, you would be gaining a valuable source of information within the KGB.”

 

“And how am I going to get my superiors to believe that she actually will contact the CIA?”

 

“The results from Twilight clearly show that she is sincere when she says she’s no longer loyal to the KGB.”

 

“She’s not loyal to this country, either; remember that part?”  Dawson sighed.  “Jack, I actually believe she would be a double, but I doubt I’m going to convince Director Levy and his colleagues of that.  Besides, it would be damn dangerous for her.  Why do you think she’s willing to put herself in that situation?”

 

“Because she believes it’s best for Sydney.  If the CIA extract her, Sydney and I will have to go into hiding, and I think she doesn’t quite trust the CIA to hide us well enough that the KGB won’t find us.”  Jack didn’t mention that he didn’t trust the CIA that far, either.  If that scenario did play out, Jack thought he’d probably have to do his own disappearing act afterwards.

 

Dawson nodded.  “To be honest, she’s probably right.  Jack, I’ll contact Washington, but I doubt they’ll go along with a plan to sit by idly and let the Russians have her.  I’m pretty sure, though, that I can convince them we need to set up contact protocols with her in case she’s extracted before we have a chance to stop it.”  He paused.  “In fact, why don’t you go ahead and talk to her and set some things up within the next few days.”

 

Jack nodded.  “I can do that tonight and have the protocols tomorrow for your approval.”

 

“Good.  Dismissed.”

 

***

 

Jack arrived home and found Laura in the living room, reading.  He gave her a kiss, then sat down on the couch beside her.  “Where’s Sydney?”

 

“At her piano lesson.”  Laura glanced at the clock.  “She’ll be back in about half an hour.”

 

Jack frowned.  “How did she get there?”

 

“Jack, her piano teacher lives three houses down,” Laura said, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Oh,” was all Jack could reply.  He could feel his ears reddening; he should have known that.

 

“Did you talk to Dawson?”

 

Jack nodded.  “He doesn’t think his superiors will agree to let the KGB extract you.”  Laura sighed.  “But he does want us to work out some contact methods just in case.”

 

“That’s good.  I had some ideas…”  They spent the next half hour working out several ways for Laura to make contact with the CIA.  Unfortunately, most of them didn’t involve Jack directly, since they had to assume that the KGB would maintain surveillance on Jack for some time after the extraction.

 

They stopped when they heard the front door open, Jack putting away the page he’d been taking notes on.  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said when Sydney entered the room and put her music books on the piano.

 

“Hi, Daddy.”  She looked at her parents curiously before climbing onto the couch between them, forcing Jack to scoot over a bit to make room for her.  “What were you doing?”

 

“Talking,” Laura answered, smiling at Jack over Sydney’s head.

 

“About what?  Were you talking about me?”

 

“No, Sydney, it had nothing to do with you,” Laura answered, giving her daughter’s shoulder a squeeze.

 

Laura was telling the truth, Jack thought, but at the same time, somehow their conversation had had everything to do with Sydney.

 

Sydney’s stomach rumbled, and Laura’s eyes widened.  “I completely forgot about dinner.  I suppose we can find some leftovers…”

 

“Mommy, we ate the Chinese food last night, remember?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Laura.  Why don’t we go out to eat?”

 

“Sounds good,” Laura answered.

 

“The spaghetti place!” Sydney said eagerly.

 

“Micelli’s,” Laura said.  “Let me go upstairs and put some makeup on…”

 

“You don’t need any.  You’re beautiful,” Jack said.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Laura replied.  Jack forestalled any further response by leaning toward her and kissing her deeply.

 

They broke the kiss in response to Sydney, who was clearing her throat rather obnoxiously.  “Mommy, you’re beautiful, and I’m hungry.  Let’s go.”  She stood and headed out toward the kitchen.

 

As Jack helped Laura up, she said, “Well, now we know who’s really in charge of this family.”

 

Jack smiled.  “You heard the boss, then.  Let’s go eat.”

 

*****

 

Chapter 46

 

On Thursday morning, Khasinau met with Volsky once again and reviewed the information he’d obtained.  The accident had occurred about a ten minute drive from the hotel, fifteen minutes from the Bristow home.  Traffic on the road where the accident had occurred was light at that time of night, and, according to the police report, Laura Bristow’s vehicle hadn’t been readily visible from the road.  The police had arrived at the scene of the accident at 11:40 p.m., and had run the car’s license plate and contacted the CIA.   Paramedics had arrived at 11:47 p.m. to transport the car’s sole occupant to the naval hospital.  The police determined that another car had been involved in the accident and had apparently left the scene.  Investigation of the car had found no evidence to identify the other vehicle, and the investigation was currently halted.

 

So the missing hour was easily explained by a delay in the accident being reported, Khasinau decided.  He was still concerned, though.  Why weren’t the police investigating more thoroughly?  He wondered if the CIA might suspect something and had called off the police investigation to conduct its own investigation.

 

He looked at Volsky, who was waiting patiently.  “There are just a few more things I need you to do.”

 

***

 

Jack entered the church at 9 p.m. to pick Laura up from choir practice, a sleepy Sydney dragging her feet behind him.  He led Sydney into the sanctuary and slipped into a pew near the back; they were still rehearsing.  Laura stood balanced on her crutches and left leg, looking off her neighbor’s music.

 

The music stopped, and the director put down his baton.  “Good work tonight, everyone.  I’ll need the organ, first cello, and Laura to stay to rehearse the solo movement; I’ll see the rest of you on Saturday.”

 

Laura sat down as the rest of the choir and orchestra flowed away around her.  Jack looked up when Emily appeared beside him; he lifted Sydney into his lap to give Emily a place to sit.  “I can’t wait to hear this,” she whispered as she sat down beside him.  “It’s an awfully hard solo; when Jim had tryouts earlier, nobody showed up.  Have you heard it?”

 

Jack shook his head but didn’t speak, since Jim had picked up his baton.  Laura stood, using her crutches, no music anywhere in sight.  She met Jack’s eyes and gave him a small, nervous smile; he returned a smile that he hoped was encouraging.

 

The piece began with a few beats of instrumental music; when Laura began to sing, Jack stopped breathing for several seconds.  He didn’t know enough about music to tell if the solo was difficult or not; what he did know was that it was absolutely beautiful.  “Pie Jesu domine, dona eis requiem,” Laura sang repeatedly.  Jack knew the meaning from his Catholic upbringing: “Merciful Lord Jesus, grant them rest.”  Pain and sadness came through clearly in Laura’s voice.  At one point, when the music grew louder and her voice jumped up to a high note, she met his eyes, and he knew in that instant exactly who she was thinking of.  Her mother, her brother.  The baby they had lost.  Him and Sydney, and the separation from them that seemed likely, if not inevitable, despite all their best efforts to stop it.

 

The piece faded to a close, and Jack wiped at his eyes, which were suspiciously moist.  He heard a shuddering breath from beside him and turned to see Emily blinking furiously.  There was utter silence in the church.

 

After a moment, Sydney turned and tugged at his lapel.  “Daddy, why is Mommy so sad?”  Her voice carried easily through the vast space; a moment later, he heard several sharp laughs from the front of the sanctuary.

 

Jack smiled down at his daughter.  “It’s just a song, Sydney,” he whispered.  “Be quiet until Mommy’s finished, okay?”  She nodded.

 

The director put down his baton.  “Well, Laura, that was…wow.  Do it just like that on Sunday, and you’ll make me a very happy man.  See you Saturday.”

 

Jack lifted Sydney, made his way to Laura, and kissed her gently.  “That was incredible.”

 

She smiled at him with that shy look that only seemed to appear when they talked about her singing.  “Sydney looks exhausted.  Let’s go home.”

 

It started to rain just as they reached the car, and Jack hurried Laura and Sydney into it—Laura in the back so she could stretch out her leg, Sydney in the front.  Fifteen minutes later, when they were only a few minutes from home, they began to pass over the Canyon Creek Bridge.  A car was coming from the other direction, but Jack didn’t pay it much attention—until it swerved directly into his path.  Instinctively, he turned the wheel sharply to the right.  The car crashed through the guard rail and plunged toward the river below.

 

*****

 

Chapter 47

 

Jack heard Sydney scream as the car hit the water and began to sink.  He looked over and quickly checked her for injuries as he unbuckled her seat belt; then he glanced back to see that Laura appeared to be all right and was removing her own belt.  “Sydney?” she asked him.

 

“Fine.  We need to get out.”

 

Laura nodded.  “You take Sydney and go out the driver’s side, I’ll go out the passenger side.”

 

Sydney was shaking, her eyes wide with fear, but Laura was eerily calm, Jack thought as he pulled his daughter into his arms.  His stomach dropped as he thought that maybe this wasn’t an accident any more than the one last week had been.  No time, he told himself, and pushed the thought from his mind.

 

Jack unbuckled his seatbelt as Laura rolled down her window; the water was still an inch or so below the bottom of the window.  She put her hands on the sill, then turned to lock eyes with him.  They stared at each other, motionless, for a heartbeat that seemed an eternity.  Then the water reached the bottom of the window and began to pour in.

 

“I love you,” Laura said.  Before Jack had the chance to respond, she pushed herself through the window.

 

“Daddy?” Sydney said, sounding panicked.

 

“It’s all right, Sydney.  Put your arms around me and hold on tight.”  He felt her arms go around his neck; he held her close with his right arm while he quickly rolled the window down.  “Take a deep breath and hold it, Sydney.”  She took a huge, audible breath; Jack took a deep breath of his own, then started to go out the window.  Laura had slipped out easily due to her horizontal position in the back seat, but Jack had a bit tougher time; he had to wriggle a bit to fit both himself and Sydney out while contorting his legs to give them a push.  By the time he finally pushed free of the car, only the roof was visible.

 

“Okay, Sydney?”  Jack asked as he wrapped his other arm around his daughter while treading water with his legs.  She nodded against his chest.  He looked around for some sign of Laura, but saw nothing.  “Laura?” he called.  “Laura?”  There was no audible response, but he imagined he heard her voice in his head, chastising him for not getting Sydney to safety.  He turned toward the bank and began slowly making his way toward it.

 

***

 

The authorities combed the river that night, all the next day, and again on Saturday, but aside from bits of the plaster cast, they found no sign of Laura.  A police officer showed up at Jack’s door shortly after dark on Saturday night, hat in hand, to tell him that they were giving up the search; they could only assume that the body had been washed down the river into the ocean.  Jack simply nodded and thanked the man; he couldn’t tell him, of course, that he believed there was nothing to find.

 

The church pastor wanted to cancel the concert on Sunday, but Jack told him that Laura would have wanted it to go on.  So the concert was performed as scheduled, though a few choir members had to leave the risers during the course of the piece to collect themselves.  The choir director had taped the rehearsal on Thursday; at the appropriate point in the middle of the Requiem, the tape of Laura’s solo was played.  When it was over, there was a long period in which there was little movement, and the only sound was that of quiet sobbing.

 

A memorial service was held the following Thursday.  Jack didn’t trust himself to speak, so he wrote out a eulogy and gave it to Emily to read, which she did after giving her own eloquent remembrance.

 

Later that night, everyone had left the house except the Sloanes.  Sydney finally fell asleep and could be pried away from Jack; she’d clung to him every waking moment since the accident.  Emily offered to carry the sleeping child upstairs and put her to bed.

 

“I’m curious, Jack,” Arvin said after Emily was out of hearing range.  “How much of today was acting?”

 

Jack stared at his friend for a moment.  Of course, he told himself; he couldn’t expect Arvin to understand.  “I loved her for ten years, Arvin.  That doesn’t disappear in a week.”

 

Sloane nodded.  “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Jack.”  He paused.  “The CIA has concluded that the accident was probably staged by the KGB, but we doubt that she survived.  With her leg broken—even if they had her cooperation, it would have been very difficult for the KGB to remove her without leaving some sign.”

 

 “I don’t believe she’s dead, Arvin,” Jack said with certainty.  “She’ll contact us soon.  We just have to be patient.”  He had decided on the night he lost her that he had to believe that, because he had to see her again, to tell her the truth that he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself until she was gone.  In spite of everything she had done, in spite of the lies and the murder, there was only one thing that mattered.  He loved her.

 

*THE END*