In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair. – Auguste Napier
It had been one week since the events at the Sloanes' villa; Jack, Irina and Sydney were still in Italy, staying at a farmhouse belonging to one of Larisa's contacts. The only other person they had seen so far was a teenage shepherd who gazed adoringly at Irina every time they encountered him. Jack had more pressing concerns than the kid's crush on his wife, and Irina was too preoccupied with other thoughts to pay much attention to the boy.
Sydney refused to be separated from either of her parents for any length of time and followed Jack or Irina around wherever they went. On the seventh night of their stay at the farm, Irina and Jack were woken by Sydney's piercing screams. As they had on each of the six preceding nights, they rushed to her bedroom. After calming her down and reassuring her they were both very much alive, they sat beside her, telling stories until she fell asleep again.
When they returned to the master bedroom, Irina didn't get back into bed immediately. She stood by the window and stared out at the surrounding landscape. She felt Jack's presence behind her, and leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Arvin Sloane needs to be dealt with," she said.
"What if he knows where Nadia is?"
She turned, still in Jack's embrace. "Then we'll make him talk."
"And if he doesn't know?"
She held his gaze. Jack gave the briefest nod; Sloane's fate did not need to be voiced for him to understand. In this, their thoughts were the same.
Irina leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. For just a moment, she could pretend nothing had changed, that nothing was wrong. "Do you think it's too late for our family?"
Jack's hold on her tightened. "No."
"Have you figured out what Sloane did?" She was almost afraid to ask; in her dreams each night she saw Sydney shoot her, over and over again. Jack had spent several hours each day working with Sydney, asking questions about the last few months. Today he had put her into a state of hypnosis; Irina had waited until now to ask, not sure whether she would ever be ready for the answer.
Jack exhaled; his sigh loud. "I can't say for sure what his intentions were, but I think – I suspect he was trying to brainwash her. Maybe into thinking she was his. I don't know. He had definitely started Project Christmas on her, that much I can tell."
Irina could hear the disgust in his voice as he continued. "I wish I'd never heard of Project Christmas."
"How much does she remember about that night?"
"I don't know."
"I don't want her to remember."
"Irina—" Jack pulled back slightly.
"No. She's just a little girl, Jack. She shouldn't have to live with—" Irina's fingers curled in Jack's shirt, her voice dropping to a whisper. "With shooting her mother."
Jack was quiet for a long time. "Maybe she doesn't remember."
"Maybe."
He took her hand and gently led her back to the bed. "Come on; you need to get some rest. We can talk more in the morning."
"Sweetheart, let's go for a walk."
"Is Daddy coming?"
Jack and Irina exchanged glances. Jack needed to go into town for supplies; the walk was a ruse so that Sydney wouldn't know he was gone. Irina brushed Sydney's hair out of her face and smiled. "Daddy needs to work."
Sydney bit her lip. "Okay."
"It'll be fun," Irina continued. "Just you and me."
Sydney slipped her hand into Irina's, and the two of them left the house. They walked in relative silence for a while, until Sydney suddenly said, "Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"How come Uncle Arvin and Aunt Emily said you died?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe they thought we really were dead." Jack and Irina had made the decision to shelter Sydney from what had really happened.
"Mommy, where's Nadia?"
Pain cut through Irina. "I don't know, baby. We're still looking for her."
"Uncle Arvin said she died too." Sydney's grip on Irina's hand tightened. "But you're not dead. Maybe she's not dead."
"Sweetheart, let's – let's sit for a while." Irina led them to a rock, and sat down. "Can you tell me what happened with Aunt Elena?"
Sydney began chewing on her thumbnail. "We went to a hotel. It was really nice; Aunt Lena said I could eat as much ice cream as I wanted. But then I got a tummy ache, so I slept, and then Uncle Arvin was there and he said you and Daddy and Nadia had an accident."
"Was your aunt still there?"
Sydney shook her head. "Only Uncle Arvin. He said I had to live with him and Aunt Emily." She frowned slightly. "I told him I wanted you and Daddy. I knew you weren't dead – 'cause everyone said Daddy was dead before, but he wasn't."
"Oh, sweetheart." Irina pulled Sydney onto her lap and kissed her forehead.
"But you took so long to come get me." Sydney buried her face in Irina's neck. "I missed you, Mommy. Don't go away again."
"Sydney, your father and I looked for you every day. We thought about you all the time."
"I love you, Mommy."
"I love you too, baby."
They sat like that for a long time. Then Sydney said, "You're going to find Nadia too, aren't you, Mommy?"
"Yes."
Sydney slid off Irina's lap. "Look, Mommy! Sheep!"
The young shepherd looked up as Sydney skipped towards the sheep. When his gaze settled on Irina, he blushed. "Bon giorno, Signora," he mumbled.
"Are these your sheep?" Sydney asked. "Can I touch one?"
The boy frowned in confusion, so Irina repeated Sydney's request in Italian. "Si, si!" He nodded, then smiled shyly at Irina.
Acting as interpreter for Sydney, Irina discovered the boy's name was Giovanni, he was seventeen, he lived on the neighbouring farm, and he had a sister Sydney's age.
"Mommy, can I go play with Monica?" Sydney asked.
"We'll see."
"Oh, please, Mommy? Pretty please?"
Irina couldn't say no. "Tomorrow." She made arrangements for Giovanni to bring his sister to the house the following day. When she told Sydney what the plan was, Sydney skipped all the way back home.
