"Ah, Mister Bristow, Mister Vaughn, your usual table is waiting for you, sirs," the maitre d' told them as soon as they entered the restaurant.

Vaughn smiled at him as Jack offered their thanks.  They had been coming to this restaurant for over a decade.  In fact, if he was remembering right, Jack first brought him here the week before his high school graduations.

They followed the man to a private room in the back.  Jack liked the privacy of it.  They could talk about important topics without being interrupted or distracted.  "It's been a long time, Mister Bristow," their waitress greeted them.

Jack nodded his agreement.  "I know.  I can't remember the last time I actually took the time for lunch."

"Busy at work?"

"Really busy," he answered before telling her his order.  It was a mere formality; he made the same selection every time.  Vaughn liked a little more variety; he rotated between three different specialties.

After watching her walk away, Vaughn played with his napkin.  "What's wrong?" Jack asked him.

Taking in a deep breath, Vaughn told him.  "We have a problem."

"Sydney?"  Jack's face was expressionless, but Vaughn could hear the fear in his voice.

"We believe that--" Vaughn sighed.  "We think that K-Directorate has an agent in the hospital."

"Damn," Jack muttered as he picked up his water glass.  "I talked to Laura earlier on the phone.  She sounded--concerned about something."

Leaning forward, Vaughn told him, "We have an extraction team waiting on the ready line out of Serbia.  I want to pull Sydney out of there."

Jack stared at the dew on his glass for several heartbeats.  "No," he finally said.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up at Vaughn and repeated himself.  "No."

"Jack, it's my job--"

"To protect Sydney.  I know, Michael."  Jack picked up his napkin and laid it across his lap.  The server arrived a few seconds later with their salads.  Vaughn could feel the tension humming in the air as the man cracked fresh ground pepper over the crisp lettuce.

Picking up his fork, Vaughn asked, "Then why aren't you letting me do my job?"

Jack took another sip of water.  "I'm her father, Michael; it's my job, too.  To protect her, and to let her do what she wants now that she is an adult."

"I don't understand, Jack."

Picking up a breadstick, his mentor explained, "You are young and eager and smart, Michael.  But you haven't lived long enough to be wise."

"Wise?  Jack, how is not saving Sydney's life wise?"  Michael forced his fingers to relax on the fork.  He stabbed a tomato and then felt bad about taking his anger out on an innocent fruit.  Then, he felt stupid for worrying about the non-existent feelings of vegetation.

Sitting down his fork, Jack pushed the plate out of his way.  He leaned on his elbows.  "Michael, even with the minimal extraction team, we can't guarantee containment.  Think about what happened in Cairo last month."  Vaughn flinched at the reminder.  He had seen photos of that aftermath.  "And if Arvin Sloane finds out, Sydney's dead anyway."

"Then, we will retire her early."

Jack sighed.  "Michael, if I had my way, Sydney would be sitting on a beach in Florida, reading a book, and not having a damn thing to do with any of this.  She told me--" Jack closed his eyes and then opened them again.  "She told me that she would rather be dead than in witness protection, and I have to believe that she was telling me the truth."

Michael pushed his own plate out of the way.  "I don't understand how you can just accept this."

"Accept it?"  Jack shook his head.  Crossing his arms, he leaned back in the chair.  "Do you remember how accepting Elizabeth was of your career choice?"

"Mom was very un-accepting."  He had never seen his mother act like she had that day.  She had screamed at him.  Actually screamed.  "You came over and talked to her."

"She didn't want to listen at first.  She said she hated the danger, despised it.  I told her that you were going do it anyway.  There wasn't anything she could say to change your mind."  Jack's eyes bore into his.  "There was nothing I could say to change your mind."

"Jack--"

Leaning forward, Jack said, "I'm proud of my work, Michael, but no, I didn't want you to follow in your father's footsteps.  Just as I never wanted Sydney to follow in mine."

"But we did."

Jack nodded and stared off at the wall.  He looked back at him and gave a tired smile.  "And I have to accept that you both are adults who make your choices in life.  All I can do is give advice.  Don't send the team, Michael.  If K-Directorate has someone in there, we just have to trust Sydney to handle it."

Their waitress brought their food out.  Vaughn tried to come up with an argument for extraction, but he couldn't overcome Jack's logic.  He didn't know Sydney that well, but if she was anything like her father, she wouldn't thank him for risking her cover to save her life.

"Oh, by the way," Jack said as he picked up the saltshaker.  "Would you mind telling me why you pulled my file folder last week?"

***

"Is something wrong?"

He really was good at observing.  "Can I tell you something off the record?"

Vaughn's eyebrows rose and his forehead crinkled.  "Sure."

"Shepard's alive."

"Excuse me?"  He shook his head as if he was trying to clear his ears.  She had just finished telling him--officially--that Shepard had committed suicide by jumping off a bridge.

"I helped him fake his death.  Get away from SD-6."  Sydney sank down on one of the boxes.  "I just didn't want to lie to you about it."

"Why wouldn't you want the CIA to know this?"  She could hear his confusion.

Sydney stared at him for a minute.  "The CIA might try to find him, might try to find out what he knows."  She sighed and kicked her feet.  "But the person I'm really hiding it from is my dad."

Vaughn sat down across from her.  "Why wouldn't you want Jack to know?"

She felt the tears start to fall, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.  "I don't want him to know about Shepard."

"Why?"  Vaughn ran his hand through his hair.  "He doesn't even know the man, Sydney.  He doesn't have a personal vendetta against him."

"He killed Danny."

Vaughn felt his forehead gather.  "What?"

She looked up at him as she crossed her arms.  "He killed Danny.  He recognized me from a photo that Danny kept in the apartment.  He took it on my birthday.  Me, the cake, and the banner.  He said all of his other pictures of me had someone else in them.  Mom, Dad, friends, him.  He wanted one of just me."

"I'm so sorry," Vaughn said as his beeper went off.

***

The phone rang.  Vaughn smiled at his mother and Alice as he handed his girlfriend the dishtowel.  He was almost done drying anyway.  He smiled at his mother; they both knew who was calling.  "Got to get it."

"Vaughn."

"Michael," Jack's strong voice crackled through the earpiece.

Smiling, Vaughn sank down on the bed that had been his as a child.  His mother had put him and Alice together in this room for the weekend.  "I thought it would be you."

"How's Elizabeth doing?"  Jack always asked about his mother, and Vaughn knew Elizabeth would ask about Jack as soon as he returned to the dinning room.

In that familiar question, Vaughn heard an unfamiliar distance.  Ever since he had asked about the Calder file at lunch, Jack had acted strangely.  In anyone else, Vaughn would have called it guilt.

"Wonderful.  She fixed too much again," he answered, lying back onto the bed.

"She probably thinks you're too thin," Jack said, his voice finally relaxing some.  Vaughn could hear the laughter in the background.

He smiled.  "She did say something about me needing some more meat on my bones.  Sounds like you have a houseful this year."

"Actually, no.  Sydney insisted on having it at her place this time."  Vaughn grinned when he heard the indulgent note in Jack's voice.

"I still bet it is a houseful."  They always had some of Sydney's friends over for the holidays.  During Sydney's undergraduate years, there had been someone staying all the time because they couldn't get home or their parents were away.

"There is Francie, of course.  And her fiancé Charlie."

"Fiancé?"

"Yes, he proposed to her at dinner."

Vaughn heard something in his friend's voice.  "You aren't thrilled with it."

"There's something about Charlie that doesn't sit right with me," Jack admitted.  "However, Francie's dad, a man who has a good sense of character, calls him 'one of the good ones'."

At one time, Jack would have shared his doubts with Francie, but Vaughn was betting that Jack doubted his own instincts right now.  Especially when faced with a conflicting view from a man whose opinions he admired.  "Want me to check him out?"

Jack chuckled.  "I doubt the agency would be thrilled to know that you are offering to investigate an innocent civilian to see if he's a dishonest man."

"You think he's a player?"  If Jack thought it, Vaughn had no trouble believing it.  He still trusted his friend's instincts.  Laura and Sydney were his only blind spots.  Those blind spots had just been larger and more dangerous than Jack had suspected.

"Yes, I do," Jack answered.  Vaughn heard someone--a man--in the background say something about getting started.  "I'll be right there, Will."

"About to start the annual game of Charades?" Vaughn asked.  When Jack had first mentioned the tradition, Vaughn had struggled to picture his friend playing a game.  Any game.  Sports, yes.  Parlor games, no.  But then, he had never seen the same Jack that Sydney had; he had been jealous of that when he had been younger.

"Yeah, we are.  I just called to say 'Happy Thanksgiving,' Michael."

"Thank you.  I hope you have a good one, too, Jack."  Now that he had learned the truth about Laura and Sydney, this year had to be especially difficult for his friend.

"My daughter's home safe, Michael.  I have a lot to be thankful for," Jack answered.  Vaughn heard the phone disconnect.  He sat starring at his cell phone and thinking about the Bristow family until he heard Alice calling for him.

***

Sydney and Laura were finishing up the dishes.  Everyone else was sitting in the living room, lost in a conversation that continued to change subjects like the currents.  "What are you thinking?" Sydney finally asked her.

Laura looked over at her daughter and realized that she hadn't hid her thoughts well.  She used to be able to, but now that Sydney knew the truth, she found herself relaxing around her.  Which was dangerous.  Because Sydney didn't know the entire truth and could never know the entire truth.

She began wiping down the counters.  "I've been thinking about something I think you should know, but I didn't know how to tell you."

"What is it?" Sydney asked.  Laura could hear the determination in her voice.  Her daughter wanted to know, no matter what the pain might be.

"Shepard killed Danny," she whispered.

Angry tears sparkled in Sydney's eyes.  "I know."

"You know?  How?"

Sydney put up the last plate and sighed.  "He recognized me from my picture."

"I'm sorry."

Sydney looked at her, tried to see her soul.  Laura could feel it.  "So am I."