Thirty-six hours after Elizabeth's kidnapping, Jack decided to come clean with Sydney. About everything. He started with the mission, hoping to find the right words to explain about Nadia.
"But how did you even connect the fluid to reviving Nadia?" Sydney asked.
"Sloane suggested it. I know it sounds insane, but you didn't see what it did to your . . . to Irina. And Nadia deserves an end to her suffering," Jack looked away then.
In the silence that followed, the wheels in Sydney's brain were spinning. "There's something else, isn't there?"
"Yes . . . I've never fully believed that Arvin was Nadia's father. I needed to know the truth before . . ." he cleared his throat. "I had a DNA test run. The results came back the morning before we tried to infiltrate the DSR."
"And?" Sydney could hardly stand the suspense.
"Nadia is my daughter." He couldn't meet her eyes.
"Really?! Dad, that's amazing!" Sydney grabbed him in a bear hug. "How do you feel about all this?"
He thought for a minute, "I'm angry as hell that I've been cheated out of all those years with her . . . But I am glad that she's mine."
"I wish you'd told me."
"Sweetheart, I didn't want to get your hopes up. Especially about the infusion. If Elizabeth hadn't been taken . . . I probably would have waited until after we tried the liquid to tell you," Jack confessed.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to protect me, Dad. I'm a big girl, a mother in fact."
"I keep trying to wrap my head around that," he smiled.
"What about Elizabeth, Dad? Sark has her? Why?"
Jack handed her a copy of a communiqué they had received that morning. Sark had detailed his demands, including the release of Joseph Spencer in exchange for Elizabeth's safe return. The other Rambaldi artifacts, including the fluid, would be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
It seemed that Sark was only interested in lining his pockets this time around.
He had no idea that they were after the fluid to revive Nadia and revealing that information would, of course, give him the upper hand.
"The CIA and MI-6 refuse to negotiate with Sark, especially given his connection to international terrorists."
"But you have a plan?" Sydney assumed.
"Yes. Officially, the CIA will not deal with Sark. Unofficially, APO is authorized to take him out.
"Sark gave a location and time for the exchange, I will inform him that the meet is on and that he must bring the artifacts with him."
Will came into the room carrying JM. "I'm sorry Syd, Mr. Bristow," he inclined his head toward Jack. "The little guy needs his mommy; he's hungry." He handed off the baby, kissing JM's cheek, then Sydney's.
She took her son as Jack stood to leave. "Dad, whatever you're planning . . . please be safe and bring Elizabeth back us," Sydney pulled him into a loose embrace. "I'll see you soon."
"Son of a bitch!" Jack yelped as he felt the burn of a bullet tear through his right thigh. He kept moving, though, intent on getting to Elizabeth. They had very little time before the C-4 he'd placed in the storage room with the Rambaldi artifact detonated. He had already taken the vials of fluid and placed them in his flak jacket.
Jack rounded a corner, stopped and quickly took aim at the two men chasing him. He emptied the clip, dropping them both, then reloaded. Three doors down, he stood face to face with Sark. He could see Elizabeth sitting, hands tied, behind the young Brit.
Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance. Face blackened to help blend in with the night, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. Jack was just thankful his dark clothes hid the blood staining his thigh. There was no telling how she'd have reacted to that.
"Jack," Sark began, "I was under the impression you would be bringing me a present: my . . . father and payment for the artifacts. I must confess, I'm rather disappointed. I was hoping the CIA would play it safe."
"How sad for you. Your guards are dead, and in about eight minutes your storage area is going to be blown sky high. Release Agent Powell and perhaps I can convince the CIA to have some leniency with you." Jack struggled to keep his voice even.
"You're bluffing."
"It's possible."
Sark pulled his Glock and aimed it at Jack. Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Trying to stay as unobtrusive as possible, she pushed herself to her feet, barely taking in the conversation. Sark cocked the gun and she was unable to restrain her cry.
"NO!"
He swung around before she could reach him. Sark didn't hesitate in firing; fortunately for Elizabeth, he hadn't had enough time to aim and the bullet only pierced her shoulder. Unfortunately, he regrouped quickly, this time aiming for her head. Without looking back, he said, "Say good-bye to your lady love, Jack."
As he pulled the trigger, Jack lunged forward. He knocked Sark off balance, altering the trajectory of the bullet so it only grazed Elizabeth's temple. Still, she dropped, unconscious, to the floor.
Sark's gun jammed as he attempted to fire on the older agent. Instead, he barreled over Jack, who was already weakened by the injury to his leg. When he regained his equilibrium, Sark was gone.
Jack crawled to Elizabeth's side, "Oh, God. Elizabeth, sweetheart, can you hear me?"
A muffled groan was his only answer. He ripped the sheets from the cot into several strips and bandaged her wounds the best he could. There was a safehouse several blocks away; he could do a better job there.
Jack placed his arms underneath Elizabeth's knees and shoulders. He grunted with the effort of lifting her and a small sheen of sweat appeared on his brow before he managed to get to his feet.
He was able to get them about a block away before he heard the explosion. He kept himself on his feet, taking another 20 minutes to make it to the safehouse. He called for the extraction team and was told it would be 90 minutes.
Jack rummaged through the first aid kit, withdrawing betadine and bandages. With a muttered apology, he cleaned both of Elizabeth's wounds, wrapping gauze around them tightly. Then he turned his attention to his own injury.
Hi ripped his pants open, swearing his he did so, "God damn it!" The betadine stung like hell.
"Jack?" Elizabeth's voice was barely audible. "What happened to you?"
"I'm fine. Just a scratch."
She gave him a look that clearly said she wasn't buying it. But she had other more pressing questions. "Where are we? How did we get here? Did you retrieve the Rambaldi fluid?"
"We're in a CIA safehouse in Bucharest; I have two ampules of the fluid." He left her second question unanswered.
"How did we get here, Jack?"
"I carried you."
"Oh, for God's safe! Look at your leg . . . Ohhh," she moaned as her head throbbed.
"You can chastise me later," Jack slapped a bandage on his thigh, grimacing through the pain. "Please, just relax. The extraction team will be here soon."
He moved his chair next to the bed and ran his hand through her bloodied hair. She sighed, taking his free hand in her own. "You look like hell, you know."
"Try looking in a mirror, sweetheart," he replied, wryly. "Close your eyes. I'll wake you when they get here."
As Elizabeth's breathing evened out, Jack had to shake himself awake every few minutes. He needed to monitor her; she most assuredly had a concussion. After a while, though, he couldn't fight his own pain and he gave into his exhaustion.