The Winner Takes it All

Irina walks over to the window and pulls back the blind. Returning to her desk, she drops Jack's gun and closes her laptop, before putting it and the gun into a small attaché case.

Episode 2-Swimming with the Sharks

Several minutes later the distinctive sound of a helicopter can be heard in the distance. Within five minutes, two men enter the cottage. Irina merely nods in Jack's direction, and motions to the handcuffs lying on the floor. The younger man quickly retrieves them and snaps them on Jack's wrists.

In the helicopter Jack tries to get comfortable. By his estimation they have been air-bound for approximately fifteen minutes. The salty air teases his nose.

The helicopter starts losing altitude. Irina stands up and removes the C-4 packet from beneath her shirt. She stows it out of sight. She returns to Jack's line of vision before pulling on a full-body wetsuit, and brightly colored life jacket.

She walks up front, has a brief conversation with the pilot and returns. She opens the door with effort; the blast of the sea air is biting. Her hair whips around wildly. The spray from the ocean clings to his skin, refreshing.

She reaches down and grabs his hand and yells; "Come on, we are going for a swim."

He looks down at his handcuffs and back at her; she shakes her head.

"Sorry Jack, not an option. Call it intuition, but judging from that dark look on your face, I'm afraid you might be tempted to hold my head under." She says without recrimination.

Tempted? Oh, no, he wouldn't be tempted to do it. He would consider it his duty!

He maintains his stony silence.

She gives his hand a quick yank and he finds himself pressed against her body.

Did she work out constantly? Her upper body strength was incredible... for a 'woman'. He grins. He was sure he'd get a reaction if he voiced that particular opinion.

She looks at him levelly while making some final adjustments on her gear.

"You'll need to slip your arms over my head and around my back. My life-jacket is more than adequate to keep us both afloat."

The helicopter is now hovering, above the ocean, which appears reasonably calm. He judges the drop to be twenty-five feet.

So here it was, decision time. Take his chances with the sharks or hug the barracuda? He didn't even have to give it a real thought.

Giving her a shove, he quickly steps backward and into the open air.

Oh the look of fury on her face was worth it.

He counts and braces himself for impact.

Impact is sharp and the water cold. The snap against the handcuffs sends a nasty little jolt through his wrists.

It might be her game for now , but he could still play it by his own rules.

He holds his breath, staying underwater for as long as possible.

"Damn you Jack." Irina screams in fat tat the empty air where Jack had been. "

Would hugging her and depending on her, have been that bad? Now she'd have to go rescue that reckless bastard. Or, maybe she should just throw some chum into the water. Surely with sharks circling he'd be a little more receptive to accepting her help. No time to think about that now. Time to go save him: from himself

She steps into the open air.

Seconds, after she jumps, the helicopter pulls up; quickly gaining altitude.

Brushing the hair from her eyes, and kicking hard, Irina is scanning the surface of the water.

Damn it, where is he?

She's been in the water a minute and no sign of him. She kicks harder and her body lifts higher; it gives her a better view.

Okay, Jack, this isn't funny. Where the hell are you?

Another minute lapses and despite her best efforts the panic is starting to seize her. The coldness is seeping through her; she shivers. She is biting her lip so hard it bleeds; she doesn'ticetice.

Twenty seconds later, fifteen feet to her left, Jack's head breaks the surface. She swims towards him frantically. She grabs him around the neck, before he sees her; and pushes his head back under water. He struggles, resurfaces and spits out a mouthful of seawater.

She hooks her legs tightly around his waist. They float facing each other.

His eyes narrow.

What was that expression she was wearing? Panic? Fear? She was worried that he really might have ned.ned. Ha, it was apparent she had forgotten, in the moment, that he could hold his breath underwater; for two minutes and forty-five seconds. Interesting, and telling. Careful, Irina, you give so much away when you lose your center.

A crack and a hot burn spreading across his cheek, snap him back.

Her expression changed: unadulterated fury!

"Don't EVER do that again. I swear Jack Bristow, next time, I'll just let you drown."

The grin playing on his lips creeps into his eyes.

Let him drown... suddenly he didn't think so. Suddenly, he was pretty certain that at least for the near future she wouldn't allow any harm to come to him. The question was ... why? Was it Sydney? Perhaps, but that wasn't the whole story; was it Irina?

What the hell did he have to look so damn smug about? He'd seen it, before she could hide it: the panic. Well just let him sit there and scramble his sexy, little, head, trying to determine what it meant. She knew he would. He would play it and re-play it, through his mind for hours, until he was satisfied he knew what it meant. How did she know? Because that was just Jack and some things never change.

Fifteen minutes pass before they are fished out of the water by a couple of burly, but not unpleasant, men, on a fishing boat.

Irina wastes no time unzipping her suit and extracting her headset. She activates it, and in a burst ossiassian, relates that they have reached the rendezvous point. She instructs someone, he assumes it is the pilot, to carry on.

She stares into the night sky. Tense. Her left index finger is tapping against her thigh.

He is watching her, as intently, as she is watching the horizon.

Random tapping? No, she's counting: precisely.

She stops tapping, and he notices the two parachutes in the distance, fluttering towards the water's surface.

She is counting again and her thumb is pressed on the detonator. The count reaches two hundred, before she closes her eyes: her jaw is clenched, she removes her thumb. A fireball lights the sky. She doesn't take her eyes off the sky; scanning. The brilliant flash of the C-4 explosion fades quickly. She relaxes; the parachutes were well clear.

Jack pales, as he thinks about the mistake he nearly made.

She's looking at him now.

"You thought I was bluffing."

Did he need an exorcist to get that woman out of his head?

Coolly, he acknowledges, "The thought had occurred to me."

His teeth start to chatter. He was drenched and the air was brisk.

She shouts towards the man standing at the boat controls.

"Time to go pick them up."

The man simply nods and sets the boat on course.

Fifteen minutes later, Irina's men are pulled aboard the boat. They disappear below the deck. She turns her attention back to Jack.

"Are you cold?"

She walks over and wipes the seawater off his brow with her hand.

He steps back, and replies gruffly. "I'm fine."

He hated the cold. Physical cold always served as a reminder of his emotional state. He didn't like to be reminded, he wanted to be warm.

Fine let him be stoic, let him freeze his ass off. Really it made no difference to. Di. Did he think obstinateness was a virtue? He could be so juvenile when the mood struck. Men!

"Where is the transmitter Jack?" She holds out her hand expectantly.

"Transmitter Irina? Why would I bother? It was suppose to be a straight-forward, pick-up."

He sits down, wishing he could rub some heat back into his hands.

"Fine, we'll do it your way. Starting with a strip search." Her eyes twinkle with amusement.

Go ahead Jack, play your games. A strip search would be a fun twist.

Eyes darkening, he decides to concede this point.

"It's in the collar of my jacket."

She steps forward, and produces a switchblade. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she snaps it open. The blade glistens in the moonlight. She reaches around his neck, grabs the collar of his wet jacket and slices ruthlessly through the fabric. She palms the transmitter.

"Thank you Jack, now wasn't that easy?" She taunts briefly.

"Maybe it's time for some positive reinforcement. I'll be right back."

Don't hurry on my account. Why did he think that if the tables had been turned she would have selected the strip search? He was certain of it. Giving up the transmitter was of no consequence; it wasn't active. He could build illusions too; he had learned from the master-builder.

Five minutes later, by his count, she returns with a large towel and a mug. She drops to her knees in front of him before draping the towel over his head and tousling it roughly. She uses a corner of the towel to pat dry his face and his neck...

"Laura, Laura, where the hell are all the towels?" His roar filled the bathroom.

Jack emerged from the bathroom; beads of water, dancing off his skin. A nice red glow said his shower had been very hot. His sexy curls clung to his head. She was such a sucker for that look. "Smile, Jack.", a flash going off made him scowl.

"The towels, Laura?"

"I hid them." She smiles slyly.

"Hid them??"He doesn?t even try to hide his exasperation.

His look suggested that he wasn't in the mood for one of her games tonight ... sorry about your luck Jack, I want to play.

"How else was I to get this picture, darling? Another great one for our 'special' album."

"We are going to be late for the party Laura." He was stalking towards her.

"Now, just give me a damn towel."

She was already dressed for the party. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she was pleased, Jack's wet backside was always an appreciated sight. She smiled.

"Say, please Laura, could you get me a towel."

To her astonishment, he had walked over to her closet and started hauling her clothes off the hangers: attempting to dry himself with them.

"Jack! She yelled, as her heels clipped briskly across the floor.

"Stop that, you are making a mess."

She swatted at him; he had grabbed her arms to stop her. Then he had got that wicked glint in his eyes.

Oh no, unless she missed her guess the game was about to tilt, in his favor.

He had pinned her against the wall and planted his wet body firmly against her. She had tried to squirm away, to save the dress, but to no avail.

He hatchetched his hands in her perfectly coiffured hair, and whispered huskily in her ear.

"Why Laura, you make a perfect towel."

His mouth had covered hers and he kissed her hard. Not relenting until, her heart was pounding and she was whimpering, helplessly, against him.

Satisfied, he had stepped back.

She looked down at her dress, it was a mess.

"Ugh, Jack, you ruined my dress." She said, with only a hint of petulance in her voice.

He was smiling broadly, pleased with the payback.

"It'll dry Laura, besides, it looks hot like that."

He gave her a lecherous grin.

Her eyes perused his body. Her hands quickly unzipped the dress that was now clinging to her like a second skin. She peeled the dress off her body and discarded it in a heap. Always the opportunist and opportunity was knocking.

He groaned; one of her favorite sounds.

She had reached under the bed and extracted a towel. She walked over and tousled his hair, wiping the droplets from his face and neck. His skin was so hot. She had run her fingers through his curls for the longest time before he had lifted her up and carried her to bed. They'd been late for the party, really late ...

She was smiling. Always suspect a woman smiling like that, especially if her last name was Derevko. She must be devising new and unusual ways to torture him. Well at least he was a bit drier.

She hands him the mug. He sniffs it. She snatches it away from him, takes a drink and hands it back.

"I'm not trying to poison you Jack." She says with indignation.

She sits down on the weather beaten floorboards of the boat. She is still close and facing him.

Well he didn't really think she'd use poison; too quick and painless.

"Trying to get me drunk?" He quips, before taking a large gulp.

Ah now that felt good. A nice slow burn; feeling warmer already.

"Yes Jacu'vu've uncovered my nefarious plot. I'm trying to get you drunk."

On second thought that might not be such a bad idea. Alcohol had been one of two things that had been useful for tapping into his fun-factor.

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted as the boat runs aground. The unexpected jolt makes her stumble slightly into Jack. He catches her. She regains her balance and helps Jack to his feet.

"Bottoms up Jack. Time for a change of transportation."