The Winner Takes it All

Summary: Post The Telling. A few weeks after Sydney has gone missing.
Told from Irina/Jack's POV. Shippy with a story
Rating: R-NC17(in later eppys).
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, but I sure have fun playing with them.

Episode 1-Gotcha

Open to a small, weather-beaten cottage that sits isolated on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The waves crash serenely as Irina, brow furrowed, types furiously on her laptop. As she works, she periodically takes a drink of scotch, straight up. The shadow that falls across her screen is the first alert that she has company: an intruder. A hint of a smile can be seen tugging at her lips. She stiffens at the coldness centered on her neck.

"Hello Irina." His voice. She had missed hearing that voice.

"Jack, is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" she quips, in a playful tone, out of place in the current situation. "I'm even wearing your favorite scent for the occasion: ch.\ch."

Silence. Jack scans the room. The damn woman was unflappable. She seemed neither distressed nor surprised at his arrival. Drawing the gun away from her neck, he keeps it trained on her while he walks around the desk, his face devoid of expression.

"Move away from the desk, slowly," his voice is deep and commanding. She complies, puts raises her hands slightly with her palms towards him and pushes her chair away from the desk. "Against the wall," he says, mningning. She backs against the wall, eyes trained on him. He walks towards her. "Turn around."

He looks at her, studies her.... what was it with this woman and tank tops? He thinks, approvingly, that she had put on a couple of pounds in the last four months. He takes his time patting her down, appreciating how her black fatigues cling to her legs. He slows down, maybe a little too much, when he pats her hips. Satisfied, he turns her around.

"Where is she, Irina?"

She maintains her silence, searching his face. He looks older than when she had seen him last... no, just tired, poor baby.

"I don't have her, Jack."

Well, whether that was true or not remained to be discovered, but at least she hadn't feigned surprise at his question.

"What do you think I've been doing for the past six weeks, Jack?"

His hand shifts slightly, the gun trained on her forehead. "Writing your memoirs? Devising new ways to exploit human weakness?"

Something was nagging at him; this was too easy. He could have secured the cottage himself. Why was Irina Derevko, only prted ted by an armed guard of two?

Her voice breaks in on his thoughts. "Come now, Jack. Whenever something goes awry in your world, isn't it always attributable to Irina Derevko or Arvin Sloane? Since I didn't take Sydney, that leaves Sloane."

Jack's eyes fall to her hands. Was she fidgeting? Maybe he had surprised her. She always had an incredible ability to adapt quickly, regain her center before most people even realized she'd lost it.

"Nice try, Irina, but since it was Arvin who orchestrated your extraction from the CIA..."

She looks at him, annoyed. "I orchestrated my own extraction, thank you very much, he was well paid for his efforts.. We've since gone our separate ways,"

Jack raises an eyebrow, doubting her.

"If you'd lower the gun, Jack, we could have a civilized conversation."

He pauses; his eyes narrow as he considers it. What could it hurt?

"No, I?m not particularly concerned if you find my brand of conversation uncivilized".

She shrugs.

He was still bothered and growing tenser by the minute that cornering her had been too easy. He looks around and back at her.

"This has been just a little too easy? Either you're slipping or..."

She cuts him off again, "Easy? It took you six week to find me." Her eyes widen, her face tinges subtly, a sign of her exasperation.

Was it his imagination or did her breast look larger, fuller? Get a grip, Jack, that observation isn't exactly helpful to successfully completing this mission.

"You were well hidden."

The locale was obscure, quiet and picturesque, a place he imagined Laura would love.

There was that twitch again. Noting his eyes paying close attention to her right hand, she asks, "Could I at least finish my scotch? I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

He backs up to the desk and retrieves the glass. "You don't appear overly concerned about Sydney's whereabouts. Is that because you have her, or was your motherly concern just another manufactured emotion to make ill illusion more life-like?"

She glares at him, refusing to rise to his obvious attempt to bait her.

Jack holds out the glass to her. She reaches, but he pulls back and empties the glass in one gulp. He smiles, "You always had a thing for excellent quality alcohol."

A small smile. "I knew you'd appreciate it. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

Playing along, "Help you what?"

The edge in her voice sharpens. "Find Sydney, you idiot."

"That's why you lured me here?" He had already figured this out, but decided to play out the hand.

"Surely the cause is noble enough for you, Agent Bristow. If you knew what I was up to, could you please explain why it took you so long to get here?"

Jack looks at her impassively. "Patience was never one of your virtues, Irina, you've always been impatient, to a fault."

She shakes her head, but didn't fail to note the amusement in his eyes. God, he looked good in black. Her eyes settle for a moment on his lips. She couldn't help but go back to the night before Sloane had executed her extraction...

Jack had just finished applying antiseptic and a bandage to the wound created when he had cut the tracking device out of her shoulder. His touch had been so gentle. They had talked. The air between them was charged more than normal, and she remembered saying that they should go to bed, just before she reached out to kiss him. He hadn't flinched or backed away. For three glorious minutes he had kissed her. Kissed her with the voracity of a drowning man reaching for the oxygen that would save him. Or was it a man desperate to plant a passive-tracking device on her? File that nasty little tht uht under G.

She could vividly recall his breath, his insistent tongue, and his hands forcing everything to spin out of control into a delicious oblivion. She'd had him - her Jack, but somehow he had managed to catch himself. She must be slipping. He had pulled back, his eyes shining, dark and piercing. In a finely-honed cool tone he'd simply said, "Goodnight Irina," and then he had gone to bed like nothing had happened.

Well, he would pay for that, count on it. No one left Irina Derevko hanging like that. Not even Jack Bristow. The worst part, or the best part depending on your perspective, was that every night since, she had awoken in a cold sweat, haunted by his taste, his smell, his essence and most importantly by the realization that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

Damn it, sometimes life just wasn't fair. She involuntarily licked her lips. She loved games, and tilting the game in her favor was an art she had spent a lifetime mastering.

He was watching her intently, wondering where she had gone for that instant.

When the thought she had been working on came clearly, she looked at him disgusted. "You didn't keep me waiting, well at least not intentionally. You went after Sydney on your own. Still using me as a last resort aren't you, Jack? Not a good game plan, Agent Bristow."

It might not be a good game plan, but he considered it self-preservation. She was good at reading him though, that hadn't changed.

"When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I can be your greatest ally?" Her eyes blazed.

Damn, but his trigger finger was getting itchy! She couldn't be serious? His greatest ally? And Satan was just misunderstood, right, Irina? He bit his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself. Besides, she looked like she wanted to expand on her lunacy.

She really wished he would lower the gun; his trigger finger seemed to twitch and it was slightly disconcerting.

"Here is what needs to happen, Jack. You order your men to stand down and abort the mission."

"I'm sorry, Irina, do I look like your fairy godmother?" This woman never failed to astound him. Got to give her marks for consistency though.

"Shut up, Jack, and let me finish. We need to work together to get Sydney back." Was his trigger finger trembling now? Great, time to talk him down. Getting her head blown off because Jack got just a little too close to the edge wouldn't serve her purposes at all.

"Reality check, my dear. This is how it is actually going to go down. Momentairly, I'm going to outfit you with these handcuffs."

He removes a set of standard issue cuffs from his jacket and dangles them in her direction.

"Then I will graciously escort you to the van waiting outside. And, well, to make a long journey short, there is a cell waiting for you."

Expressionless. "I don't think so, Jack."

"Oh, come now, Irina, it's been outfitted to your specifications. A mattress, a blanket, and a pillow - all the creature comforts you desire. Now, let's make this easy." He holds out the handcuffs.

"You always did like me in handcuffs," she all but purrs, "didn't you, Jack?" She moves her hands to the top of her jeans and tugs the tank top loose, still glaring at Jack.

"Keep your hands where I can see them." He catches sight of her navel. His grip on the gun tightens.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?"

He groans silentlamn,amn, she had this way of just knocking him off center. He had almost lost himself with her not so many weeks ago.

It was understandable, really. His wife Laura had the sexiest mouth he had ever seen. And, he was a hot-blooded man after all, and when that mouth had kissed him, it was more than he could bear. For just a minute, (okay maybe ad bad been three), he'd let himself slip. He had willingly stepped just a little closer to the flame, but it had been in the name of duty, how else was he suppose to slip the transmitter on her, without her suspecting?. That had to count for something.

He hadn't expected how she would engulf him. He had been completely unable to think, only feel, and she had been ravenous. For an instant, the thought had struck him that she would devour him, and as his tongue hungrily explored her mouth, he suddenly wanted to devour her. The heat had surged through him, shocking, like a bolt of lightening.

He was certain he had felt more alive in those three minutes than he had in the entire past twenty years. And then he had remembered. She had killed Laura, his Laura; even with that thought, he had just barely stumbled away from her grasp.

Laura, Irina; Irina, Laura. Where did one end and the other begin? Who knew? They were the same, but different; different, but the same. All he knew for certain was that this woman before him - this calculating, manipulative, treacherous bitch - wanted his very soul, and he wanted her so badly it hurt.

Every night since the kiss, he had dreamed of her. It was always the same, he would wake, drenched in sweat, breathing hard. The physical evidence was all there. His control was taken from him in his dreams. How did she do that - torment him unmercifully until he surrendered?

He had hated her with every single cell in his bodr twr twenty years. But, here were those moments, especially since she had come back into his life, that he was certain if he didn't have her, he would just cease to exist. She was the flame.

Come on, Jack, those thoughts are counterproductive. They are your demons; deal with them later. At least he could still send those random thoughts back to the darker abyss of his mind.

"Cut it out, Irina," he barked.

"Well, as I recall, Jack, you preferred me in a state of undress before you cuffed me." A playful grin surfaces, her eyes twinkle.

Jack stills his mind, keeping the rage at bay. His eyes are locked on hers; she looks at him defiantly as she quickly whips the top over her head and tosses it to him. He lets it fall to the floor.

"The one thing I've learned abut life, Jack, is that you take your small pleasures where you can get them. So I give you permission, go ahead indulge yourself." She adds with a whisper, "I won't tell."

Jack's jaw is clenched so tightly it aches. She'd never had any compulsion about using her body to distract him. But he'd be damned if he was going to fall for it.

"That might have worked when you were in your twenties, sweetheart, but you might want to try something new. This material is just old."

Her head goes back in laughter. Poor Jack, he looked angry enough ...oh wait, before we get too confidant, let's check that trigger finger.

Her body shift is the excuse he needs to drop his eyes just for half a second. Damn, she's not wearing a bra. He quickly returns his eyes to hers.

"Perky," slips out before he can get it back. He immediately regrets it, seeing the look of triumph in her eyes.

She laughs. "I have a confession, Jack. I had a little help with the 'perky'."

He looks at her somewhat bemused. An odd admission from such a vain woman.

"You need to drop your eyes just a little lower Jack, then everything will become ,oh so much more fun."

He drops his eyes, and his body freezes. He swallows hard. The thin black case strapped snuggly beneath her breast, giving them added lift, didn't look benign. It was in cold ugly contrast to her soft milky skin.

"I really can't tolerate being locked up, Jack. It is just hell on my social life."

He stares transfixed as she slowly runs her finger under her left breast, over the offending object; in emphasis. He cringes, as the sweat beads on his forehead. Was she bluffing? If only he knew.

"Recognize it, Jack? Not nearly as fashionable as the necklace you had made for me, but I do think it gives a nice lift and there is enough C-4 in this packet to decimate everything within a quarter mile radius. Dental records would be of no consequence if I activate it."

She notes the pressure he is exerting on the gun.

"Oh Jack, would you put that damn gun down? See this pretty little bauble on my finger..." She holds her right hand forward, so he can she the ring she has obviously been fidgeting with.

"The detonator, Jack. If I take my thumb away, say as I'm falling after you so recklessly put a bullet through my brain, it still goes off. You decide, Jack. I won't go back to that cell, so what'll it be, Agent? Do we live another day?"

She can see the wheels turning in his head.

"Come on, Jack. I need to find Sydney, we need to find our daughter."

Jack remains quiet, running multiple scenarios at once.

Time to twist the knife just a little. "How many men outside? Fifteen, twenty? Do you really want to be responsible for making their wives... widows?"

Ah, there we go, a slight flinch.

Jack drops the handcuffs, lowers his gun, and activates his headset. "Stand down. We have a situation. Return to your vehicles... and clear the area. I repeat, clear the area. Derevko is wired with enough C-4 to level the building. Evacuate the area immediately. This is a direct order. Move it!"

"You are so good at giving orders, Jack."

She retieves her top from the floor and hastily pulls it over her head.

"I'll take the gun, Jack."

Jack raises the gun and walks closer to her, pressing it to her forehead.

"What's this, Jack? Foreplay?"

"Bitch."

"I don't think you really want to make Sydney an orphan today."

"She'd be better off."

"Somehow, I don't think she would share your prespective. She loves you, Jack. Don't you dare be careless with that."

He lowers the gun and presses it into her left palm.

She sighs. Relief?

"Thank you."

"What now, Irina? Where are you going?"

"The better question would have been, 'Where are we going?' And the answer is; we are going to find Sydney.Together"

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 attache case.