Alias- Jack & Laura

26) Bitter Flashbacks

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 was was , 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, 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.

I"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." /I

"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 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.