It's my fault. I watched in mute horror as her car went over the edge, that
one thought echoing in my mind. It's my fault.
How could I blame anyone else? It was my idea to break her out of FBI custody. I made the calls, I arranged it. It was at my request that Devlin had the jet standing by. Of course Jack helped by getting Haladki to tell us her location… I would have loved to have seen the look on that pompous jerk's face when he was face to face with an angry Jack Bristow… but nevertheless it is still my fault.
Maybe they were right, maybe I am—was—too emotionally attached. Maybe if I'd been more objective I wouldn't have felt this need to protect her, to vindicate her name. Maybe then she would still be alive.
And that is yet another thing that is my fault. She died not really knowing how I feel—felt—about her. Oh sure, we hinted around about it, but I never told her, she never got to hear those words I know she needed to hear. How difficult would it have been? "Sydney, I think I'm falling in love with you." Instead I settled for "It would be nice to be able to look at you in public." Same meaning, but it's still important to hear the direct version and I couldn't give that to her. I thought waiting was the best choice, I thought our time would come. "Hockey can wait," I told her, knowing that she would understand I was talking about more than just hockey. And just last week… "Next time we're in Rome…"
But now we'll never have a next time. She's gone and it's my fault.
How could I blame anyone else? It was my idea to break her out of FBI custody. I made the calls, I arranged it. It was at my request that Devlin had the jet standing by. Of course Jack helped by getting Haladki to tell us her location… I would have loved to have seen the look on that pompous jerk's face when he was face to face with an angry Jack Bristow… but nevertheless it is still my fault.
Maybe they were right, maybe I am—was—too emotionally attached. Maybe if I'd been more objective I wouldn't have felt this need to protect her, to vindicate her name. Maybe then she would still be alive.
And that is yet another thing that is my fault. She died not really knowing how I feel—felt—about her. Oh sure, we hinted around about it, but I never told her, she never got to hear those words I know she needed to hear. How difficult would it have been? "Sydney, I think I'm falling in love with you." Instead I settled for "It would be nice to be able to look at you in public." Same meaning, but it's still important to hear the direct version and I couldn't give that to her. I thought waiting was the best choice, I thought our time would come. "Hockey can wait," I told her, knowing that she would understand I was talking about more than just hockey. And just last week… "Next time we're in Rome…"
But now we'll never have a next time. She's gone and it's my fault.