Elena drove to Lubyanka first thing in the morning. Jack took the chance to buy breakfast, then hurried back to his car to wait. By the time Elena came rushing down the stairs, not looking too happy, he'd finished his meager meal and was ready to follow her.

She was in a different car, one that looked to be KGB-issued. Jack frowned; what kind of family was this, with three members in the KGB? Were there more of them?

What was waiting for him at the end of this journey?

He glanced at his passenger seat. The gun he'd stolen from the guard at the prison was hidden inside the folded newspaper. At least, Jack thought, he wasn't going into this situation unarmed. There were enough bullets for each of the sisters, if necessary.

Nothing – no one – was going to keep his daughter away from him.

It was after mid-day when Elena turned down a narrow dirt road. From the main road, Jack could see a house in the distance. There were no other houses in the direction Elena was going, so Jack decided to wait before approaching the house. He needed the element of surprise, and driving in behind Elena would be a dead giveaway.

He drove a little further, then pulled off the road and popped the hood open. He removed the spark plugs and hid them beneath the driver's seat, just in case he needed the car again when he escaped with Sydney.

Then he stuck the gun in his belt and began walking back towards the house.


Sydney was laughing.

It was the first thing he heard as he drew near to the house.

"Mommy, that tickles!"

"What? This?"

Sydney squealed in delight, and it struck Jack that Irina had spoken in English. He peered out from the tree he'd hidden behind.

Sydney and Irina were sitting on the steps, an open book lying next to them. Irina had pulled Sydney onto her lap and was tickling her. Jack could do nothing but stare; how long had he dreamed of this? He wanted to run up to them and take them in his arms and tell them he loved them. How was it possible that his wife was more beautiful than he remembered?

And then another woman walked out the house to join them. Jack hadn't seen her before, but she looked enough like Irina and her sisters that he assumed she was related to them. An older sister, maybe. She was carrying a baby.

Sydney jumped off Irina's lap and gave the woman a hug. Then she carefully took the baby from her arms.

And Jack remembered Cuvee's words, remembered this wasn't his child, remembered his wife had never loved him.

"Be careful," the older woman said in Russian.

Jack sank to the ground. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back in Los Angeles with Laura and Sydney. He wished he'd never gone on the North Korean mission, wished nothing had changed.

"Let's go for a walk," Jack heard. He looked around the tree again. Elena and Katya had joined Irina and the other woman. Both were dressed casually now, and it was hard to imagine them in the bland KGB uniforms.

Sydney let the older woman take the baby from her, then grabbed her aunts' hands. "I want to see if the bird's nest is still there!"

She dragged them towards the other side of the house. Jack watched Irina stand, hug the other woman, kiss the baby's forehead, then enter the house. The woman came down the steps and went in the same direction Sydney had led Elena and Katya, and Jack knew that the time had come to act.

He hurried towards the house. Once inside, he carefully listened for the sound of any movement, then heard water splashing from behind a closed door.

Now or never, he thought, and pushed the door open.

"Sydney, what has Mommy told you about knocking?" Irina sat up in the bathtub, then froze, staring at him in shock.

She was even more beautiful up close. He thought of her in Cuvee's arms, and raised the gun.

She slowly got to her feet. He kept his gaze on her face, and saw the moment she recognized him.

"Oh, God. You're alive." She stepped out of the tub and reached for him. He backhanded her across the face, and the force sent her stumbling backwards. "Jack?"

He grabbed her by the throat and pressed the muzzle of his gun to her temple. "I've been dreaming about this for months," he said.

"Jack, what--?"

"Shut. Up." His grip on her throat tightened and she gasped. "I'm not interested in explanations. I came here to kill you and take Sydney home."

Irina shook her head weakly. "Please—"

"Please?" His expression was mocking.

"Thought – dead—"

"I'm sorry to have disappointed you."

She gasped. "No."

His grip tightened. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sagged in his arms. This was too easy; she deserved to suffer the way he'd suffered. She would die, but not like this. He lowered her to the floor and breathed life into her.

She gasped, and her eyelids fluttered open. She seemed confused for a moment, and then she smiled, and her expression contained the same mixture of warmth and joy and surprise he'd seen earlier. There was a time when that smile would have melted his heart, but he was a different man now.

Suddenly, her expression darkened and all the light left her eyes. "You tried to kill me!" she hissed.

He traced the red marks on her neck, the first of many he intended to inflict. She reacted violently, and before he knew it, she'd flipped them over so that he was on his back and she was straddling him. She grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head, and it was at this moment that he realized she was still naked.

Her face was close to his, near enough that her breath warmed his lips, and he couldn't quite decipher the look in her eyes.

"You're alive." Her tone held wonder; something else he didn't understand. And then it didn't matter, because her lips were on his, and this was so familiar but at the same time completely strange.

She's not Laura.

Her grip on his wrists had loosened, and he took advantage of her distraction to act. He shoved her off him, giving her another backhand to the face for good measure, and scrambled away from her.

The bathroom door flew open, and he found himself looking up at the older woman he'd seen earlier. Except this time she was holding a gun instead of a baby, and it was pointed at him.

"Mama, it's okay." Irina held up a hand and shifted so that she was leaning with her back against the tub. Her other hand was pressed to her cheek, and Jack found the sight of her blood strangely disconcerting. It crossed his mind that killing her might prove to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"What the hell is going on?"

Irina's laugh sounded hollow. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Who are you?"

He said nothing, but raised his chin defiantly.

"Mama, it's Jack." Irina reached for a nearby towel, and wrapped it around her body, leaving bloody handprints on the material. She slowly got to her feet, then swayed unsteadily before taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"Jack? Your Jack?" The woman stared at him for a long moment, then, to Jack's surprise, lowered the gun, and smiled. "How is this possible?"

Jack took advantage of their confusion to pick up his gun. He pointed it at Irina again, then glanced from her to her mother. Irina, her eyes on him, tried to stand again. She reached up to touch her head, and winced.

Her mother had stopped smiling by now, and Jack noticed she'd raised her gun as well. "Why did you attack my daughter?" Her tone was ice.

"You want just one reason?"

Irina was pale and looking at Jack as if he'd been the one to break her heart instead of the other way around. Then she tore her gaze away from him and turned to her mother. "Where are the girls?"

"Outside."

Irina nodded and took a step towards the door.

"Don't. Move."

Her shoulders sagged.

"Give me your weapon, Agent Bristow."

"You give me yours."

The older Derevko smiled again, but this time it was cruel. "You have until the count of three to give your weapon to Irina."

Irina stepped between them. "Mama, no."

"Let me guess," Jack said dryly, "you're KGB too?"

"Retired."

"Talk about the mother-in-law from hell."

"Jack!" Irina hissed as she spun around to glare at him. Then she turned an even whiter shade of pale, and her knees buckled. Jack reached for her on instinct, catching her before she could hit the floor. And all he could do was stare at her as he held her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." She reached up to touch his face, and he tried to decipher the look in her eyes. She smiled. "This beard is awful."

He managed a weak smile. "Yeah."

"Your gun, Agent Bristow," her mother said.

"Let her have it, Jack."

"Are you out of your mind? She'll shoot me the second I hand it over."

"No, she won't."

"Babushka!" Sydney called. "The eggs hatched! Come see the baby birds!"

Irina was still in Jack's arms when she said, "Don't tell them yet, Mama."

"If you raise a hand to my daughter again, Agent Bristow, it will be the last thing you ever do." She stepped back and closed the bathroom door, leaving Jack and Irina alone again.

Neither moved, though Jack's arms tightened just a fraction around Irina's waist. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to kill her, but he couldn't. It was easy enough to hate her from afar, but now that she was in his arms again, he wanted nothing more than to drown in her kiss and pretend that nothing had changed.

She whispered his name a second before their mouths met.