Place of Secrets
By: The Madhatter
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, 'nuff said.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1
Note: Written quite a while ago, during the first season, before I even found out the real identity of 'Laura'. If you were on the SD boards, you've prolly seen this fic floating around. a LONG time ago. This is Jack's POV in 2nd person. Please, read and review. Feedback is wonderful, good and bad.
You unlock the door to your house and throw the keys on the table. You don't bother to turn on the lights, for there is no use for them. Stumbling on the couch, you kick your shoes off and just lay there. Work has drained you of all remaining energy and all you do is want to sleep. But you can't. You're afraid to sleep. When you sleep, that's when it comes back at you - that's when it haunts you. Your past. That's when all of your fears and nightmares come to life. Thinking of that alone strikes fear into your heart.
You get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen. You flick on the lights and squint at the brightness. But you don't care. The less you see the better off you are. Besides, you know where everything is. You've been living there for years. Many years too long. You pour yourself a glass of wine in hopes of relaxing yourself. But it doesn't work. Your mind wanders to places that you didn't want to explore. Places that should never be brought up ever again. Places where you hide everything. The Place of Secrets, as you like to refer to it. The Soul.
You can still remember last night's nightmare vividly in your mind. You can still remember the scream, the gunshot the one that claimed a life. A life you cared about deeply. You look ahead and see that they are being comforted by someone else. Another person is there instead of you. The person turns around and your eyes widen. You don't recognize the person, you don't want to. It's too much to bear.
You can remember watching the gun go off and the person fall to the ground lifelessly. The dead body disturbs you and you don't know why. You're used to seeing dead bodies. You've had to deal with them since you could remember. Hell, you've killed more people than you can count. The feel of a gun in your hand is normal. You don't even flinch when people threaten you. How sad. You remember watching as blood seeped out from underneath the body and shudder. Something you don't do very often. You remember being frozen to the spot. You couldn't even blink. Your breath came in gasps. You were frozen in time.
Shaking the nightmare out of your head, you sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. Slowly sipping the wine in your hand, you flip through the channels hoping to find something to clear your head. But it's all news. Nothing that you haven't heard. You try and settle on a baseball game but find that you quickly lose interest. Baseball was never your sport. You shut off the TV and sit there. All of the lights are off in the house and all you can hear is the buzz of the crickets at night. The silence is comforting. You are never nervous or uncomfortable when it's silent. To you, it has always been that way. Silence is your best friend.
Your mind wanders back to her -- back to the one person who brings light to your life. There was once a time when there was another one, but that soon faded away. But you don't want to think of those times. Let the past stay where it belongs.
Sydney. She always was an angel to you no matter what happened. Even when you stayed away all those years, you still found ways to check up on her. You even tried to call her on holidays when you felt brave enough, but those quickly died down. You still feel guilty for it. You still wonder why you had to leave her like that. If you stayed with her, maybe she would have been safe. Safe from SD-6. Safe from Sloane.
Arvin Sloane. You hate the man with every single fiber in your being. That man manipulated you and your daughter. And for that, you will never forgive him. You hate how you have to walk into his office everyday and see his old, weathered face. You hate having to listen to that soft yet piercing voice of his. You hate how Sydney has to deal with that man as well. You hate how he admires her as his own, as his prize. You hate that. Sydney is yours and yours alone. You wish that he could rot in hell for all of time and eternity. You wish you could just rip him apart, limb-by-limb and make him suffer a slow and painful death for what he has caused you and your daughter.
You down the rest of your glass and place it on the coffee table. The thought hits you that you may not be who you always thought you were. What if you aren't Sydney's father? What if you've been played all along? What if. You don't want to continue. Just the thought of not being Sydney's father scares you. You glance at an old family picture of you, Laura and Sydney when she was about four years old. How could she not be your daughter? She always called you 'Daddy,' she always said that she loved you. You feel a bit better. But you can't help but question who the father really is. There is only one person that could answer that.
Laura.
You shut your eyes. You don't want to think about that woman, that traitor. But no matter what happens, your mind goes back to it. Laura could clear things up. Laura could claim who the real father was. Laura would tell the truth. or would she? You don't know anymore, but what you do know is that she could tell who the real father is. That's all that matters. That is all that ever will matter. Once that is cleared up, you can go back to your life. You can go back and try to be the father that you should have been all along.
You get up and grab your keys. It's late, but you need to get away. As you drive down the street at a high speed, you slowly start to calm down. The thoughts in your head slowly fade away back to the depths of your mind. All you concentrate on is the road. The long and windy road of life -- one that you cannot get off of. You have chosen your path and now you must stick to it.
Zooming down the road, you quickly check that there is no one around, especially cops. Good. All clear. You race down just loving the feel of adrenaline running through your body. That's your way of getting your frustrations out. You don't write because you're afraid of someone reading your feelings. You don't talk because there is no one to talk to. Barnett is just an annoyance. You only go to her feed her more lies. You don't need a shrink. You can take care of your own problems in your own way. At least, that is the way you have been taught. Self-reliance is a lifesaver.
You pull up at your house again and walk in. For some reason, the house seems to be in a lighter mood. Maybe you had too much to drink. You sit down on your favorite chair near the small window in your bedroom. Pulling it open, the cool air rushes in, brushing your face. The city lights are beautiful, but all you can see is the darkness. You wonder when you became so depressing. You watch the cars zoom by and listen to the crickets chirp. You close your eyes and wonder what's going to happen next. What's going to happen tomorrow?
You cannot help but think who the father of Sydney is again. The thought runs through your mind all the time. You wish that is would stop just so you can think straight. You want answers and you want them now. But the only person that can answer is not here. She's somewhere on the face of the planet. You would die just to find out. Just as long as she says that you are her father, nothing else matters. The world good blow up that second but you won't care. You just want her to be happy. You just want everything to be right for Sydney. You would die just to see it happen. Die.
Out of curiosity, you go and pull out the dictionary. You flip to the page and read the definition.
Father: to care or look after someone as a father might.
To looks after someone as a father might. You did that. You cared for her when she was a kid and even when she was older without her knowledge, of course. That's always your style. You always stayed in the shadows. No matter what her DNA might say, you are her real father. You're the one that tucked her in at night, you're the one that spoiled her crazy, you're the one that saved her life more times than she can count, and most of all, you're her father. You fulfill all the responsibilities of a father, so therefore you are her father regardless of what Arvin Sloane may do or say.
You slip into your bed and pull the covers over yourself. The corners of your mouth twist up in a grin as you think of the possibility that you are her father. No, that you are her father. You close your eyes with a smile on your face. On day, it will all end. SD-6 will be gone, Sloane will be locked away or killed and Laura will be gone forever. Then maybe, maybe, you can forget the past and move on with your life.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, 'nuff said.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 1
Note: Written quite a while ago, during the first season, before I even found out the real identity of 'Laura'. If you were on the SD boards, you've prolly seen this fic floating around. a LONG time ago. This is Jack's POV in 2nd person. Please, read and review. Feedback is wonderful, good and bad.
You unlock the door to your house and throw the keys on the table. You don't bother to turn on the lights, for there is no use for them. Stumbling on the couch, you kick your shoes off and just lay there. Work has drained you of all remaining energy and all you do is want to sleep. But you can't. You're afraid to sleep. When you sleep, that's when it comes back at you - that's when it haunts you. Your past. That's when all of your fears and nightmares come to life. Thinking of that alone strikes fear into your heart.
You get up from the couch and walk into the kitchen. You flick on the lights and squint at the brightness. But you don't care. The less you see the better off you are. Besides, you know where everything is. You've been living there for years. Many years too long. You pour yourself a glass of wine in hopes of relaxing yourself. But it doesn't work. Your mind wanders to places that you didn't want to explore. Places that should never be brought up ever again. Places where you hide everything. The Place of Secrets, as you like to refer to it. The Soul.
You can still remember last night's nightmare vividly in your mind. You can still remember the scream, the gunshot the one that claimed a life. A life you cared about deeply. You look ahead and see that they are being comforted by someone else. Another person is there instead of you. The person turns around and your eyes widen. You don't recognize the person, you don't want to. It's too much to bear.
You can remember watching the gun go off and the person fall to the ground lifelessly. The dead body disturbs you and you don't know why. You're used to seeing dead bodies. You've had to deal with them since you could remember. Hell, you've killed more people than you can count. The feel of a gun in your hand is normal. You don't even flinch when people threaten you. How sad. You remember watching as blood seeped out from underneath the body and shudder. Something you don't do very often. You remember being frozen to the spot. You couldn't even blink. Your breath came in gasps. You were frozen in time.
Shaking the nightmare out of your head, you sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. Slowly sipping the wine in your hand, you flip through the channels hoping to find something to clear your head. But it's all news. Nothing that you haven't heard. You try and settle on a baseball game but find that you quickly lose interest. Baseball was never your sport. You shut off the TV and sit there. All of the lights are off in the house and all you can hear is the buzz of the crickets at night. The silence is comforting. You are never nervous or uncomfortable when it's silent. To you, it has always been that way. Silence is your best friend.
Your mind wanders back to her -- back to the one person who brings light to your life. There was once a time when there was another one, but that soon faded away. But you don't want to think of those times. Let the past stay where it belongs.
Sydney. She always was an angel to you no matter what happened. Even when you stayed away all those years, you still found ways to check up on her. You even tried to call her on holidays when you felt brave enough, but those quickly died down. You still feel guilty for it. You still wonder why you had to leave her like that. If you stayed with her, maybe she would have been safe. Safe from SD-6. Safe from Sloane.
Arvin Sloane. You hate the man with every single fiber in your being. That man manipulated you and your daughter. And for that, you will never forgive him. You hate how you have to walk into his office everyday and see his old, weathered face. You hate having to listen to that soft yet piercing voice of his. You hate how Sydney has to deal with that man as well. You hate how he admires her as his own, as his prize. You hate that. Sydney is yours and yours alone. You wish that he could rot in hell for all of time and eternity. You wish you could just rip him apart, limb-by-limb and make him suffer a slow and painful death for what he has caused you and your daughter.
You down the rest of your glass and place it on the coffee table. The thought hits you that you may not be who you always thought you were. What if you aren't Sydney's father? What if you've been played all along? What if. You don't want to continue. Just the thought of not being Sydney's father scares you. You glance at an old family picture of you, Laura and Sydney when she was about four years old. How could she not be your daughter? She always called you 'Daddy,' she always said that she loved you. You feel a bit better. But you can't help but question who the father really is. There is only one person that could answer that.
Laura.
You shut your eyes. You don't want to think about that woman, that traitor. But no matter what happens, your mind goes back to it. Laura could clear things up. Laura could claim who the real father was. Laura would tell the truth. or would she? You don't know anymore, but what you do know is that she could tell who the real father is. That's all that matters. That is all that ever will matter. Once that is cleared up, you can go back to your life. You can go back and try to be the father that you should have been all along.
You get up and grab your keys. It's late, but you need to get away. As you drive down the street at a high speed, you slowly start to calm down. The thoughts in your head slowly fade away back to the depths of your mind. All you concentrate on is the road. The long and windy road of life -- one that you cannot get off of. You have chosen your path and now you must stick to it.
Zooming down the road, you quickly check that there is no one around, especially cops. Good. All clear. You race down just loving the feel of adrenaline running through your body. That's your way of getting your frustrations out. You don't write because you're afraid of someone reading your feelings. You don't talk because there is no one to talk to. Barnett is just an annoyance. You only go to her feed her more lies. You don't need a shrink. You can take care of your own problems in your own way. At least, that is the way you have been taught. Self-reliance is a lifesaver.
You pull up at your house again and walk in. For some reason, the house seems to be in a lighter mood. Maybe you had too much to drink. You sit down on your favorite chair near the small window in your bedroom. Pulling it open, the cool air rushes in, brushing your face. The city lights are beautiful, but all you can see is the darkness. You wonder when you became so depressing. You watch the cars zoom by and listen to the crickets chirp. You close your eyes and wonder what's going to happen next. What's going to happen tomorrow?
You cannot help but think who the father of Sydney is again. The thought runs through your mind all the time. You wish that is would stop just so you can think straight. You want answers and you want them now. But the only person that can answer is not here. She's somewhere on the face of the planet. You would die just to find out. Just as long as she says that you are her father, nothing else matters. The world good blow up that second but you won't care. You just want her to be happy. You just want everything to be right for Sydney. You would die just to see it happen. Die.
Out of curiosity, you go and pull out the dictionary. You flip to the page and read the definition.
Father: to care or look after someone as a father might.
To looks after someone as a father might. You did that. You cared for her when she was a kid and even when she was older without her knowledge, of course. That's always your style. You always stayed in the shadows. No matter what her DNA might say, you are her real father. You're the one that tucked her in at night, you're the one that spoiled her crazy, you're the one that saved her life more times than she can count, and most of all, you're her father. You fulfill all the responsibilities of a father, so therefore you are her father regardless of what Arvin Sloane may do or say.
You slip into your bed and pull the covers over yourself. The corners of your mouth twist up in a grin as you think of the possibility that you are her father. No, that you are her father. You close your eyes with a smile on your face. On day, it will all end. SD-6 will be gone, Sloane will be locked away or killed and Laura will be gone forever. Then maybe, maybe, you can forget the past and move on with your life.