Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story.
Rating: G
At first glance, he thought that she was only someone who looked like Laura – like Irina. After she left him the first time, when he thought she was dead, he had often been stirred by seeing a woman who resembled her. It takes him a moment to realise that the woman's legs, exposed to the intermittent autumn sunlight, are not merely like Irina's but are Irina's. He's certain that his expression gives his surprise away.
"Hello, Jack," she says casually, tilting her hat back.
He doesn't need to ask what she's doing here. The beach is near Sydney's house, and Jack knows that she comes down here every morning to run. It's expected that Irina would know, too. "How did you know I'd be here?"
She can't have predicted his movements. He's only here because he went by Sydney's to drop off more of the endless files she needs to catch up after two missing years, and he had nothing else to do with the rest of his Sunday afternoon.
"Sit down, Jack." There's an empty towel next to her, and he realises now that she put it there for him.
He's not dressed for this. It will look suspicious, a man fully clothed sitting next to this woman in her bathing suit and broad-brimmed hat. Except that to any passer-by who doesn't know who they are, he probably only looks like a person who met someone he knows unexpectedly while out for a walk. Which he is.
"I'll get sand in my clothes."
"You must already have sand in your shoes. What difference will it make?"
The sensible thing to do would be to turn and walk away, at least ask her to meet him in a more secure location. If he's caught with Irina, he'll soon be back in solitary and Sydney won't have such an easy time bargaining for his release a second time.
He sits down.
"You didn't tell me that you were coming," he says, reproving her.
"I didn't plan to be here. I know that it's a risk but ... I just needed to see her, to convince myself that it was true."
That, he can understand all too easily. "And if she had seen you?"
"I doubt Sydney would be checking out middle-aged women lying on the beach," she says, smiling. She holds out a bottle of suntan oil to him. "Here, you can help me do my back while you're here."
He almost smiles back at her, then wonders why he's trying not to. Jack realises that he is, in fact, happy. It's such an unfamiliar sensation that he hasn't fully recognized it before now. He has his daughter back, and she loves him. He's managed to negotiate a bizarre truce with his wife. Even Arvin may be back on the right side, although Jack will believe that when he sees it.
"I didn't quite believe she was real myself, until I saw her." Perhaps not even until he'd at last been able to hold her in his arms. Jack has decided that he won't be so shy of physical contact with his daughter in future. He's lived too long without even the possibility.
He squeezes the oil out onto Irina's back and begins to rub it in, wondering how they look now to the other beach-goers.
"Is she going to be alright?" Irina asks.
"I don't know," he says. He hasn't admitted that to anybody, certainly not to Sydney. "She doesn't remember the past two years, but ..." he hasn't told Irina about the tape, and he doesn't know if he should. He knows she had nothing to do with what happened to their daughter, but that doesn't mean that he trusts her fully. "I found out that she was alive, just before I was taken into custody. They caught me trying to contact you."
He'd been sloppy, stupid. He had deserved to get caught. But all he'd been able to think when he'd seen the tape was that he had to let Irina know, so that he wouldn't be the only person feeling this overwhelming blend of joy, shock and terror.
Her shoulders feel tight under his hands – perhaps she's feeling some of it now. "I was sorry," she said, "that you ended up in prison on my account."
"It was easier this time than the last," he says.
"Being in prison for twice as long is easier?"
"Last time, I knew that I was innocent." Innocent of any crime other than being a fool for the woman he loved, anyway. "This time, I thought it was worth it. I'm only sorry that I couldn't tell you about Sydney first." In solitary, he had wanted to see Irina, if only to tell her their daughter was alive, almost as much as he'd wanted to see Sydney herself.
"It must have been terrible, being unable to do anything to help her."
It had been, but it's a feeling he grew used to a long time ago. It occurs to him that must be familiar with that sensation, too. "You didn't answer my question," he says, "about how you knew I'd come here."
"I didn't. I just – couldn't get up and leave, after I'd seen her. Just being near where she lives, it made me feel closer to her. I was going to contact you later."
It might or might not be true. "You took a risk, not leaving as soon as you made me."
Against all the odds, they're Sydney's parents again, but that means the thing that made them allies is no longer a factor. Theoretically, he might turn her in. It would certainly help to get him back into the good books of those who believe he can't be trusted after collaborating with her.
"You said that you missed me."
When she was far away, sitting at a keyboard in some mysterious location, it had seemed like a safe enough thing to admit. Now, with his fingers working around the straps on her swimsuit to rub the skin beneath, he's not sure that it was.
Jack is acutely aware that it's been more than a year since he's touched anybody this intimately. He could have found somebody to go to bed with in the time since he's been out of prison, but it hadn't seemed like a priority. He realises now that he was waiting to see her.
"I did miss you."
"I'm staying at a hotel, not too far from here. We could meet there later."
He has to think. This wouldn't be like the assignations they had while they were looking for Sydney's killers, an opiate to numb the agony. This would be an admission that there's still something between them that goes beyond the need to find the people who hurt their child. Perhaps he's admitted too much already.
"It may be a long time before I can see you again," Irina adds, perhaps reading a rejection into his silence.
"Alright." He doesn't ask her to explain. In their line of work, there are always complications. "This evening?" Perhaps they can order room service together.
She reaches into her bag and passes him a hotel room key, with an address tag attached. "I'll try to be there by six-thirty, but it's possible that I'll be delayed."
Perhaps she isn't only in town to see Sydney, but he decides that he doesn't really want to know. He stands up, brushing sand off his pants. "I'll see you," he says, holding her eyes for too long before he turns away and walks back in the direction of his car.
He'll be there at six-fiteen, just to be safe. Jack is good at waiting for her, after so many years of practice.
The End