Chapter Eleven: Finding the Way Home
Agent Eric Weiss nudged his office door open with his left foot while juggling a stack of memos, a can of Mountain Dew, a bag of BBQ potato chips, a Hostess Twinkie, and a tuna sandwich wrapped in cellophane. He was concentrating on these things and did not notice Jack Bristow slip in the door behind him until he reached his desk and turned around, at which point he started and swore under his breath.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Weiss questioned, his eyebrows raised.
Jack eyed the items Weiss carried. "No, but you are," He said coolly.
Weiss narrowed his eyes. "Thanks," He said, though he did not mean it. "I'm finally able to eat solid food again. I'm going to enjoy it."
Jack took a seat in front of Weiss's desk and folded his hands in his lap. "A lot has been going on during the three days you've been gone," He said. "I'm sure you've heard."
"A little," Weiss nodded, sitting down and opening the can of Mountain Dew. "Great job on getting Dixon to come in."
"I gave him little choice," Jack replied. "He's not enjoying the debrief process, but I don't think I would, either, had I just learned that everything I believed was a complete fabrication."
Weiss just nodded as he shuffled through the memos on his desktop, discarding those that had no direct bearing on him. He then unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite, raising his eyes to glance at Jack. He knew there was more, and he was patient to wait. Jack Bristow wasn't the sort of guy who just dropped by to chat.
Jack could sense that Weiss was not going to draw him out. He shifted in the chair and cleared his throat.
"I'd like to know where my daughter is," He said quietly.
Weiss looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly dark. "I don't know what you're talking about," He said. He took another bite of the sandwich, averting his eyes as Jack leaned forward in his chair.
"You told me three days ago that you had spoken to Vaughn," He said, his voice low. "I'm sure he must've told you where they are."
Weiss was suddenly angry. "Officially, Jack, I don't know what you're talking about," He looked towards the open office door and then pointedly at Jack. "I can't help you."
Understanding completely, Jack reached back and pushed the door shut, waiting until it closed with a resounding metallic click before he spoke again.
"Can you help me now?"
Weiss took a long swallow of his soda before met Jack's eyes. "I was welcomed back this morning by a sit-down with Devlin," He explained. "His secretary told him how you were running all over LA looking for me, and he put two and two together and wanted me to tell him everything I knew about Vaughn and Sydney's disappearance." Weiss cautiously glanced towards his door as he heard voices in the hallway. When it was quiet again, he went on. "I told him that I don't know anything. So, officially, Jack, I don't know anything."
Jack sighed. "Weiss-"
"I could lose my job, Jack," Weiss stated plainly. "You do realize that the CIA is taking measures to find them. If they ever do, they'll be lucky if they don't face official sanction and possible criminal prosecution."
Jack studied Weiss' s face carefully, reading behind his eyes, sensing there was more to the story. He stood up and opened the door. Before walking out, he turned to face Weiss once again.
"There's a bar down the block, on the corner," Jack said off-handedly. "I like to go there after work sometimes, to unwind." With that, he was gone and Weiss was alone, smiling as he finished his tuna sandwich.
Sutton's was more of a pub than a bar, a smoky, dark wood paneled retreat from the bright, sun-washed world of southern California. When Weiss walked in the front door at half-past six o'clock, he was greeted by a rush of air conditioning and a darkness that forced him to remove his sunglasses to keep from being blind.
Taking a few steps inside, Weiss scanned the patrons at the deep mahogany bar and then turned his attention to the high-walled booths bordering the large space. He spotted Jack in a corner booth and quickly made his way over.
"You're a sharp one, Agent Weiss," Jack said as Weiss slid into the seat across from him. Jack lifted a pint glass half-full of an amber lager and tipped it slightly towards Weiss. "Cheers," He said before taking a drink.
A waitress appeared, and Weiss gave his order. He then waited for her to leave before speaking. "You understand, then, what a tough spot I'm in," He said.
"I'm surprised it's taken this long for Devlin to question you," Jack replied.
Weiss shook his head. "It hasn't. Right after Vaughn and Syd split, I was called in and asked if I knew anything. I gave him the same answer then that I gave him this morning." He smiled as the waitress dropped off a bottle of Heineken. Weiss took a sip before continuing. "Apparently, Kendall has been spitting nails about the SD-6 operation going sour. When you were compromised, he ran to Devlin and demanded that he get to the bottom of it. Kendall had a suspicion that all this stemmed from Sloane searching out Sydney."
"Do they know Sloane found her?"
"No," Weiss was quick to answer, sensing Jack's concern. "Not for now, at least. You know Sloane will keep looking."
Jack nodded as he turned his beer glass in a slow circle between his hands. "That's why I want to know where they are and where they're headed. I'm already being hunted by SD-6 security section. Protecting me is no longer an issue."
Weiss took a deep breath, sinking back against the seat cushion. "That's what I have to tell you, Jack," He said slowly. "Vaughn called me last night - for the last time."
Jack didn't react at first; he simply watched Weiss's face for a smile or a wink, something to indicate that he was joking. When no sign appeared, he sat back, also, a shadow passing over his face.
"What do you mean, `for the last time'?"
"They're disappearing completely, Jack," Weiss explained. "Vaughn said that after Madrid, they refuse to take any more chances. The stakes are higher now, and they want to protect themselves as well as me. He said that the only way he'd contact me now is in the case of an extreme emergency."
This news hung in the air between them for some time. Weiss quietly sipped his beer while Jack just stared down at the tabletop, his face masking his disappointment.
"Well," Jack said finally, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a ten- dollar bill and dropped it on the table. "Thank you, Agent Weiss, for your help." He drained the beer glass and set it heavily on the wooden table.
"Hey, Jack," Weiss grinned. "You should try calling me Eric."
Jack was not devoid of humor. "Only if you promise that you will never again call me Uncle Jack," He said, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile.
"It's a deal," Weiss nodded. He sensed that Jack wanted to leave, so he reached into his breast pocket, smiling as he did. He had saved the best news for last, just as Sydney had instructed him to do. "Before you go," Weiss said, catching Jack just as he stood up. "Syd and Vaughn had me pick up something for you."
Jack sat back down, sliding slowly into the booth as he studied the object Weiss held out to him. It was a pink bubblegum cigar, and Jack was confused by it until he reached out and took it. He turned it over in his hands and read aloud the words embossed on the gold seal that encircled it.
"It's a girl."
A light drizzle fell as Sydney Bristow walked the village path, the stones wet and slightly slippery beneath the soles of her hiking boots. The air was crisp and the rain cold as banks of gray winter clouds rolled across the sky. The pale, late morning sun was in hiding, leaving in its place a chill Sydney could not shake even as she picked up her pace and huddled within her dark blue rain slicker.
Pushing aside thoughts of the weather, Sydney pressed on, the path before her stretching on into dense foliage. Sydney ducked beneath an overhanging branch and almost lost her footing, steadying herself with a hand against a nearby tree trunk. Had the weather been slightly better, she would have enjoyed this walk, just as she had done many times before. But on this day she was replete with reflective, ponderous thoughts and didn't have patience for the tingling cold in her fingertips and toes.
At a place where a fork appeared in the path, Sydney veered to the right, taking the trail less traveled where the rocks were sharper, the edges overgrown with grass and weeds. She made her way carefully, raising her eyes to a plume of smoke that appeared ahead above a hedge of evergreens. Sydney moved on, the promise of warmth pushing her forward.
The path continued through the hedge and came into a clearing where a little house sat, secluded and surrounded by tall pine trees. Sydney approached the back door, pausing to gather firewood in her arms from the pile stacked against the house. After pushing the door open, she closed it again with her hip, leaning against it until she heard it latch.
After dropping the firewood into a waiting metal bin, Sydney straightened and listened for noise. She heard the quiet murmur of voices, deep within the house, and was momentarily comforted by the familiarity of it. This was the time of day when Vaughn would be watching the local French news broadcast while preparing lesson plans for the afternoon classes he taught at the village school. Sydney thought of this as she shook off her rain slicker and hung it on a hook by the door before slipping out of her boots and walking, sock-footed, into the cozy kitchen.
Sydney glanced at the wall clock as she went to the sink to rinse dirt from her hands. It was almost noon, and as she reached for a towel, she hoped the baby would nap a while longer. Vaughn would leave at around one o'clock and Sydney wished for peace and quiet after he was gone, just long enough for her to immerse herself inside her melancholy mood and exist in her thoughts for a while.
Standing at the kitchen window, Sydney gazed out at the rain. It was falling harder now, large drops splashing against the glass pane. She frowned, unhappy with her own mood, confused by her sadness. Nothing bad had happened; this was a day like many other days, waking up in this house with the man she loved and the child their love had created. There was no reason to be unhappy, but on this day, for some unknown reason, she wore it like an old pair of slippers, a comfort she wished to sink into when no one else was around.
Sydney turned from the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she shivered inside her thick gray sweater. The cold outside had seemed to seep into her bones. Crossing the room to the stove, she reached for the copper teakettle where it sat in its usual spot on the back burner. Sydney stopped short when she realized the burner was on, the kettle hot. She brought her hands close to it, soaking up the delicious warmth while puzzling over the water that was about to boil. Vaughn was not a tea drinker; he never put the kettle on unless Sydney requested it.
The kettle suddenly began to whistle, and Sydney watched it for a moment, finally drawing back to turn off the burner. As she did, she heard footsteps behind her on the hardwood floor and she turned her head, smiling as Vaughn appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He stopped short, watching her for a moment as she removed the kettle from the heated burner. "I didn't hear you come back," Vaughn said quietly.
"Somehow you knew I'd be cold," Sydney said, smiling still. The idea of Vaughn doing something sweet for her, like heating water in anticipation of her return, temporarily pushed her sadness into the far corners of her mind. She went to the cupboard and got herself a teacup and a tea bag. Setting them on the counter top, she glanced up at Vaughn once more as she reached into the utensil drawer for a spoon.
"You might want to get another cup," He said, watching her carefully.
Sydney stopped on her way back to the stove, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" She asked, Vaughn's quiet demeanor and watchful eyes suddenly striking her as suspicious.
It was then that she heard it, movement in the next room, footsteps on the hardwood, the creak and sigh of the old couch as someone sat down upon it. Sydney locked eyes with Vaughn, a look of panic overtaking her face. It was all she could do to gingerly set the spoon on the countertop; her first instinct was to fight, to protect the life of her child.
Vaughn quickly came to her, putting a hand over hers. "It's okay," He assured her, looping his free arm around her waist, gently rubbing her back. "Sydney," Vaughn leaned in and kissed her ear. "Your father is here."
Sydney fell away from him, almost losing her balance. As she gripped the counter top for support, her eyes searched Vaughn's face for any sign that he was kidding. When she found none, she immediately pushed past him and nearly ran into the living room. Jack Bristow quickly got to his feet as Sydney rushed to him, tears filling her eyes as she threw her arms around her father.
"Dad," She breathed, pressing her face into his shoulder, the wool of his sweater rough on her cheek. She inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave, felt the reassuring strength of his arms around her back and immediately she knew. She understood then what all the sadness had been about, the melancholy that had colored her day until this point. She had been homesick, lonely for the places and the people she could not see.
Until now.
"Sydney," Jack said her name as though it were a prayer, his voice catching in his throat. He had nearly forgotten how well his daughter filled his arms and his heart when she allowed him an embrace. He knew no better feeling.
Vaughn watched all this from the doorway, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The real thing far exceeded the image he'd held in his mind the moment Jack had walked into the house an hour before, just a few short minutes after Sydney had left through the back door for her daily walk through town.
"Dad," Sydney finally pulled back from him, his image blurry through her tears. "How?" She questioned. "When? I was only gone for a little while," She accepted his handkerchief as he held it out to her and quickly wiped her eyes. "How did you find us?"
Jack smiled. "It wasn't easy," He conceded. "I've been searching for you for six months."
In the next few minutes, Sydney and her father situated themselves on the couch, warm cups of tea in their hands. Vaughn had pulled over an easy chair and sat facing them, his lesson plans and the daily news forgotten. He'd heard most of the story already, but he knew he could not resist hearing Jack tell it again.
Jack detailed all the places in France he had been, the many times he'd felt he was close to them but not close enough. "It wasn't until I came across one of your contacts," Jack said, glancing up at Vaughn. "He let it slip that you had changed your names and forged your documentation to appear that you were French citizens. He wouldn't tell me the names you'd chosen, but he gave me a tip as to what part of the country I should concentrate on."
"He didn't know our names," Vaughn interjected. "I didn't tell him for this very reason."
Jack smiled at that. "It turns out he didn't need to," He said. "He had good information concerning what job you might be doing, and where," Jack paused. "It was only a matter of time before I traced you to this village, to the school where there was a new English teacher."
Sydney's eyes were wide as she glanced from her father to Vaughn and back again. "And the school told you where we live," She guessed.
"No," Jack said. "Actually, they wouldn't tell me anything but your name. And then it was just a matter of asking around town until I found someone who seemed to remember that Henri and Audra Laurent lived in a cottage in the forest."
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace as Sydney and Vaughn exchanged surprised glances and Jack sipped his tea. Sydney turned back to him, her eyes drinking him in, her mind full of disbelief that her father was actually sitting there, sharing space with her. It had just been a year since she'd last seen him, although at times it felt like decades.
"Dad," Sydney spoke up suddenly, her voice halting. "How's Mom?"
At the mention of Irina Derevko, Vaughn quickly stood, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "Syd," He said. "I have to go to school." He bent to kiss her cheek, after which he shook hands with Jack. "You'll stay for dinner?"
"Of course," Jack nodded, inwardly grateful for the invitation. Many times he had imagined this reunion, often with an outcome far different from the one he was actually experiencing. The fact that it was going so well flooded him with relief.
Sydney saw Vaughn to the back door, watching him walk down the stony trail until he disappeared from view beyond the evergreen hedge. Turning back into the house, Sydney called her father into the kitchen where they settled at the cozy kitchen table and resumed their conversation.
"Your mother is doing well," Jack said, stirring honey into his tea. "She continues to be helpful to the CIA, providing intel when necessary," He lifted his eyes to Sydney's, seeing in her face she was hungry for news. "She actually helped me try to find you, six months ago when I made the decision to start looking."
Sydney smiled to herself, the image of her parents collaborating on anything still foreign, yet welcome, to her. She sobered quickly as a question came to her mind, one she had wondered about for several months.
"Six months ago, that was after Madrid," Sydney stated. She stared down at her hands as she wrapped them tightly around her teacup. "Dad, do you know what happened with Dixon? When he got back to SD-6?"
Jack was not surprised. He had anticipated Sydney's concern and was quick to reassure her. He told her about Dixon seeking him out and about Dixon's reaction to learning the truth. "He was receptive, after a while," Jack said. "I took him in to the CIA, and he's working for us now."
Sydney's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "He's CIA?"
Jack nodded. "He's been working inside SD-6 as a double agent," He confirmed. Jack paused before going on, letting Sydney grasp the idea of Dixon taking her place in the fight against Arvin Sloane and the Alliance. It was a thought that felt good to her, and she turned it over in her mind several times, the weight of it displacing months of worry about her ex- partner and the things he had seen in Madrid.
Jack went on when he sensed Sydney relax inside the knowledge he had given her. "I'm sure Weiss told you how I tried to warn you after I was compromised," He said. Sydney nodded, and he continued. "After that, I felt rather non-productive. I had to stay in hiding most of the time, living in a CIA safe house. I was miserable. Devlin called me in and encouraged me to take a leave of absence, so I decided to travel Europe and try to locate you at the same time."
"You've been on leave for six months?" Sydney questioned, amazed by her father's dedication to locating her.
Jack shook his head. "No," He said, smiling slightly. "Devlin wouldn't allow it. I returned after one month and I've been working as Dixon's handler since that time."
Sydney was quiet for a moment, thinking of the work Dixon was doing. "Dad, about SD-6-"
"We're close," Jack interrupted. He met Sydney's eyes as she looked up at him questioningly. "Dixon is doing great work, and we've recently learned that there may be a hidden server that links all the SD cells. The CIA is working to find it, and when we do, the ramifications could be huge."
Sydney sank back into her chair, this new information settling inside of her like a long-lost puzzle piece. It was the answer to many questions and yet the catalyst for many more. Along side of that, Sydney was knicked by the sharp edge of doubt that often assailed her when she paused to think about the life she'd led before.
"I should be a part of it," Sydney said suddenly, completely letting down her guard, preparing to share feelings with her father that she dared not share with Vaughn. "I get that sense every once in a while, that the work began by me should also be completed by me."
Jack was troubled by her words. "Don't tell me you regret leaving that life," He said.
"No, I don't regret it," Sydney leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I just wonder at the wisdom of leaving my job unfinished." She rubbed her eyes, frustrated by the absence of the words she needed to correctly shape her thoughts.
"Dixon's finishing it," Jack said then, reaching across the table to lightly touch his fingers to Sydney's arm. "If your doubts are stemming from a desire to take down Arvin Sloane, that I can understand. Dixon shares that desire with you. He's doing everything he can to complete the task that you and Vaughn started."
Sydney was comforted by his words and his gentle tone. She reached out and grasped her father's hand, squeezing it tightly. It was then that Jack noticed the simple yellow gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand.
Sydney followed Jack's gaze and smiled softly. "Christmas Day," She said. "In a cathedral in Montrichard."
Unexpected emotions rose up in Jack as he remained quiet, a smile on his lips as he looked at the ring and the smile on his daughter's face. The kind of thoughts that almost never entered his mind passed through, leaving one behind that seemed to touch him in a place within that he vaguely knew but had never visited. Without thinking, he spoke it aloud.
"I didn't get to walk you down the aisle."
Sydney smiled as her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, Dad," She said, reaching to squeeze his hand once again. "I got married under a fake name. It's not even legal in the United States. If I ever go back to LA, we'll have to do it all over again, so you'll get your chance then."
Jack laughed outright, Sydney's reassurance striking him as humorous. It was all he could do sometimes, to stay sane within the life he led. Occasionally, he just needed to laugh. Sydney found it infectious and joined in, both of them forgetting to be quiet. As their chuckles trailed off, the sound of a baby's cry floated in from another room and Sydney quickly got to her feet.
"I'm glad she's awake," She said, smiling, tears still rimming her dark eyes. "I can't wait to introduce the two of you. I'll be right back."
Jack waited patiently while Sydney tended to the baby, changing her, wrapping her tightly in a soft pink blanket. When she reappeared in the kitchen, the sweet bundle in her arms, Jack couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath. The baby was beautiful, her head covered in golden brown curls, her green eyes alert as she took in the sight of this stranger in their house.
"Dad," Sydney came to him, holding the baby out to place into his waiting arms. "This is your granddaughter, Ava Miette Vaughn," She released the child to Jack, his arms encircling her as he cradled her against his body. Sydney then pulled her chair close to her father's and looked into her daughter's eyes. "Ava, this is your grandfather," She spoke the sentence in perfect French, reaching out to lightly brush a curl away from Ava's forehead.
"Ava Miette," Jack repeated the name softly, gazing down at his granddaughter. "A beautiful name for a beautiful baby."
Sydney couldn't help the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She did nothing to stop them as she watched her father get to know her daughter, an image she had dreamed about many times since the baby had been born. To see it in person was an indescribable gift.
Jack and baby Ava spent the afternoon together, Jack gracious to care for Ava as Sydney attended to a few household chores. She paused every once in a while to check in on them, gazing from the doorway as Jack entertained the baby with her plastic blocks or read to her from French children's books. Sydney marveled at how easily it came to him, the compassion and caring he showered on the child. She didn't question where it came from because she suspected she knew; regret can often make you attempt to do things better the second time around.
Vaughn arrived home at around four-thirty and immediately went looking for Ava. It was a daily ritual; he kissed his wife hello and then sought out his child, his desire to spend time with her having built up all afternoon, his thoughts on her even as he had taught his classes. He found Ava in her crib, Jack standing over her with a stuffed animal, making her giggle as he danced it along the wooden side railing.
Sydney was in the kitchen when Jack walked in, his hands in his pockets, his eyes shining. Sydney watched, pleased. She could not remember ever seeing her father this content.
"You speak French to her, primarily?" Jack asked, sitting down at the table and accepting another cup of tea as Sydney set it before him. She nodded as she turned back to the stove.
"We want her to learn English, as well, but it's safer for our cover if she speaks mainly French," Sydney picked up a wooden spoon and lifted the lid off of a pot of beef stew.
"I think you have a while before she starts talking," Jack interjected good- naturedly.
"Oh, no," Vaughn sang out as he entered the kitchen, Ava in his arms. "She's a genius baby, Jack. She'll be talking before she turns one!" He lifted Ava high into the air, wiggling her back and forth over his head until she giggled, following that with a hearty burp.
"Careful," Sydney warned, adding chopped carrots to the stew pot. "She's got a full tummy. I just fed her a half-hour ago."
"Do you need help with dinner?" Vaughn asked, nuzzling Ava's neck, kissing her rosy cheeks as he cradled her against his shoulder.
"No, I'm fine. Go play," Sydney smiled, knowing she couldn't keep him from it if she tired.
"Ahhh! It's Super Baby!" Vaughn held Ava out before him and swooped her through the air as he left the kitchen, heading back towards the nursery. Jack and Sydney watched him go, chuckling quietly.
The room grew quiet, the only sound the stew bubbling gently on the stovetop. Sydney replaced the lid and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before preparing herself another cup of tea. She brought it to the table just as Jack looked up at her, his eyes dark with feeling.
"Is he a good father?" He asked, breaking the silence between them.
Sydney was caught off-guard by the question, never before having given it much thought. "Yes," She answered, her voice rich with sincerity. "He's an excellent father."
Jack nodded as he grasped his teacup firmly, studying the surface of the hot beverage as it danced with reflections of the overhead light. "That's good," He said. Meeting Sydney's eyes, he spoke again, his voice bearing traces of regret. "We should always strive to give our children more than we had ourselves."
Sydney once again pulled a chair close to her father and sat down, reaching to rest her hand on his arm. "You're a good father, Dad," She said, heavy with emotion as tears stung her eyes.
"No, I'm not," Jack shook his head, holding up a hand to his daughter as she tried to interrupt. "I tried to keep you from all this," He told her, looking around the room. "I tried to hold you back from living a life. I told myself I was protecting you, but - protecting you from what? Happiness? Love?"
"Dad, I don't hold any of that against you," Sydney asserted. "You were doing what you thought was right."
"But I was wrong," Jack said forcefully. "I was wrong, and look at all I've missed out on," He looked away from her then, unable to meet her eyes. "I purposefully kept myself out of your life from the time you were six until just three years ago. And then I lost another year with you because I felt it was my right to influence a senate committee in order to keep you from repeating a mistake that I made years before you were even born."
"Dad-"
"No, Sydney, wait," Jack finally met her eyes again, pain etched into every detail of his face. "I'm sorry," He said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm truly sorry."
Sydney was frozen to her chair, stunned by her father's apology. "Dad," She said, finally finding her voice. "I have happiness, and I have love. The only thing you kept me from the past year is you. And now you're here. There's no reason for you to apologize."
"You're happy, then?" Jack questioned, the shadow of doubt starting to lift from his eyes.
"Yes," Sydney assured him. "It's been hard, this past year. I won't deny that. But I think most of the difficulty has come from homesickness. I've missed you, and Will, and Francie, and my mother," She watched as Jack's eyes dropped to the tabletop at the mention of Irina. Sydney followed his gaze, giving herself a chance to organize her thoughts. "I think that's why I said what I did earlier about SD-6. I don't really miss the double life and lying to everyone. Sometimes I just miss things that are familiar, like Will's messy hair and Francie's killer apple pie. And you, Dad. I miss you."
Jack looked up again as Sydney reached out to give his arm a squeeze. "I'm glad you're happy," He said finally. He thought for a moment before he added, "And I miss you, too."
"Damn Arvin Sloane," Sydney said, a flash of anger propelling her words. "I wish putting a bullet in his brain would solve this, but I know it wouldn't. The Alliance would still exist, and Vaughn and I would still have to live this nomad life, moving around every few weeks."
"We're close," Jack assured her, sipping his tea. "If we can find this supposed secret server, it could be the thread we can pull to unravel the whole damn thing."
"I hope that's true," Vaughn said from behind them as he entered the kitchen. "Ava's asleep again," He told Sydney. "I think Jack wore her out this afternoon."
Sydney got up from the table to finish preparing dinner. Vaughn set the table for her, then sliced a loaf of crusty French bread while she served up bowls of the delicious smelling stew. During the meal, the conversation bounced from one topic to the next, touching on the weather and the French countryside before inevitably returning to Los Angeles and the world of espionage.
"You will eventually return, won't you?" Jack asked hopefully, glancing from Sydney to Vaughn. "Once SD-6 and the Alliance have been dismantled?"
"I'd love to go back, at least to visit," Vaughn admitted. He grabbed another slice of bread before continuing. "I'd like Ava to experience America and have a chance to live there for a while. But the last time I spoke to Weiss, which was quite a while ago, he said that Devlin was not about to let bygones be bygones."
"We couldn't return to our jobs at the CIA," Sydney put in, reaching for the pitcher to refill Jack's water glass. "Not that I want to," She said, glancing at Vaughn.
"I might want to," He said suddenly. "If we decided to stay there for a while," He turned to Jack. "But they wouldn't take me, I'm sure. I didn't report for reassignment; we abandoned our jobs."
"The CIA isn't your average employer, Vaughn," Jack reminded him, setting down his spoon. "You could possibly be accepted back, after you'd completed an extensive debriefing, complete with rigorous psychological testing and polygraphic examinations."
"Oh, is that all?" Vaughn joked as he stood up from the table.
Jack smiled. "They would just want to be sure that you hadn't been working for the enemy during your time away," He explained. "I think once you'd proven that you hadn't, Devlin would accept you back. He'd chain you to a desk for a long period of time, but he would allow you to return."
"Weiss led us to believe Devlin was out for blood," Sydney said, getting up and beginning to clear the table.
"He's only responding to pressure being applied by Kendall," Jack told her, handing her his empty bowl. "His SD-6 operation was nearly destroyed, after you left and I was compromised. It made him look bad, and he wants to return the favor."
"Well, that settles it, then," Vaughn sighed heavily, returning to the table after tossing another log into the fireplace in the living room. "We can't return even if SD-6 and the Alliance are eliminated. The second we do, and Kendall catches wind of it, we'll be hauled in before the IOC. And I, for one, am not going through that again."
Sydney sympathized with every word he spoke. Returning to face the Intelligence Oversight Committee would be steps in a circle that she would go to any lengths to avoid, even if it meant never setting foot in Los Angeles again. The very thought of that was painful to her, and she quickly turned back to the dishes, eager for distraction.
Jack pushed back his chair and crossed his legs, watching the troubled faces of his daughter and son-in-law. He cleared his throat before sharing news that he expected they would find as nothing but good.
"Kendall is retiring in a year," Jack said off-handedly, implying nothing and everything all at once. "It's already been decided, regardless of how well the SD-6 operation goes between now and then."
Sydney and Vaughn both raised their eyes to Jack, watching him curiously. Sydney was the first to speak.
"Do you think SD-6 and the Alliance will be toppled by then?" She asked hopefully.
Jack shrugged. "Honestly, I do, especially if this new information pans out."
Vaughn's eyes narrowed as he lost himself in deep thought for a few moments. "My better judgment tells me not to ask questions," He ventured, looking up at Jack. "But I can't help it. Who first heard about the alleged secret server?"
The two men traded ideas back and forth for the next few minutes, Jack offering facts and suspicions while Vaughn put in his opinion and asked questions. Sydney started to wash the dinner dishes, filling the sink with warm, sudsy water. She couldn't help but smile as she stood listening to the two most important men in her life debating the finer points of bringing down an evil counter-intelligence organization. In any other life, it would have been ludicrous. In hers, it felt like home.
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A/N: Well, this has been an absolute blast. Sorry for the delay before updating; I pondered over this chapter for quite a while. I hope the wait was worth it.
Agent Eric Weiss nudged his office door open with his left foot while juggling a stack of memos, a can of Mountain Dew, a bag of BBQ potato chips, a Hostess Twinkie, and a tuna sandwich wrapped in cellophane. He was concentrating on these things and did not notice Jack Bristow slip in the door behind him until he reached his desk and turned around, at which point he started and swore under his breath.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Weiss questioned, his eyebrows raised.
Jack eyed the items Weiss carried. "No, but you are," He said coolly.
Weiss narrowed his eyes. "Thanks," He said, though he did not mean it. "I'm finally able to eat solid food again. I'm going to enjoy it."
Jack took a seat in front of Weiss's desk and folded his hands in his lap. "A lot has been going on during the three days you've been gone," He said. "I'm sure you've heard."
"A little," Weiss nodded, sitting down and opening the can of Mountain Dew. "Great job on getting Dixon to come in."
"I gave him little choice," Jack replied. "He's not enjoying the debrief process, but I don't think I would, either, had I just learned that everything I believed was a complete fabrication."
Weiss just nodded as he shuffled through the memos on his desktop, discarding those that had no direct bearing on him. He then unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite, raising his eyes to glance at Jack. He knew there was more, and he was patient to wait. Jack Bristow wasn't the sort of guy who just dropped by to chat.
Jack could sense that Weiss was not going to draw him out. He shifted in the chair and cleared his throat.
"I'd like to know where my daughter is," He said quietly.
Weiss looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly dark. "I don't know what you're talking about," He said. He took another bite of the sandwich, averting his eyes as Jack leaned forward in his chair.
"You told me three days ago that you had spoken to Vaughn," He said, his voice low. "I'm sure he must've told you where they are."
Weiss was suddenly angry. "Officially, Jack, I don't know what you're talking about," He looked towards the open office door and then pointedly at Jack. "I can't help you."
Understanding completely, Jack reached back and pushed the door shut, waiting until it closed with a resounding metallic click before he spoke again.
"Can you help me now?"
Weiss took a long swallow of his soda before met Jack's eyes. "I was welcomed back this morning by a sit-down with Devlin," He explained. "His secretary told him how you were running all over LA looking for me, and he put two and two together and wanted me to tell him everything I knew about Vaughn and Sydney's disappearance." Weiss cautiously glanced towards his door as he heard voices in the hallway. When it was quiet again, he went on. "I told him that I don't know anything. So, officially, Jack, I don't know anything."
Jack sighed. "Weiss-"
"I could lose my job, Jack," Weiss stated plainly. "You do realize that the CIA is taking measures to find them. If they ever do, they'll be lucky if they don't face official sanction and possible criminal prosecution."
Jack studied Weiss' s face carefully, reading behind his eyes, sensing there was more to the story. He stood up and opened the door. Before walking out, he turned to face Weiss once again.
"There's a bar down the block, on the corner," Jack said off-handedly. "I like to go there after work sometimes, to unwind." With that, he was gone and Weiss was alone, smiling as he finished his tuna sandwich.
Sutton's was more of a pub than a bar, a smoky, dark wood paneled retreat from the bright, sun-washed world of southern California. When Weiss walked in the front door at half-past six o'clock, he was greeted by a rush of air conditioning and a darkness that forced him to remove his sunglasses to keep from being blind.
Taking a few steps inside, Weiss scanned the patrons at the deep mahogany bar and then turned his attention to the high-walled booths bordering the large space. He spotted Jack in a corner booth and quickly made his way over.
"You're a sharp one, Agent Weiss," Jack said as Weiss slid into the seat across from him. Jack lifted a pint glass half-full of an amber lager and tipped it slightly towards Weiss. "Cheers," He said before taking a drink.
A waitress appeared, and Weiss gave his order. He then waited for her to leave before speaking. "You understand, then, what a tough spot I'm in," He said.
"I'm surprised it's taken this long for Devlin to question you," Jack replied.
Weiss shook his head. "It hasn't. Right after Vaughn and Syd split, I was called in and asked if I knew anything. I gave him the same answer then that I gave him this morning." He smiled as the waitress dropped off a bottle of Heineken. Weiss took a sip before continuing. "Apparently, Kendall has been spitting nails about the SD-6 operation going sour. When you were compromised, he ran to Devlin and demanded that he get to the bottom of it. Kendall had a suspicion that all this stemmed from Sloane searching out Sydney."
"Do they know Sloane found her?"
"No," Weiss was quick to answer, sensing Jack's concern. "Not for now, at least. You know Sloane will keep looking."
Jack nodded as he turned his beer glass in a slow circle between his hands. "That's why I want to know where they are and where they're headed. I'm already being hunted by SD-6 security section. Protecting me is no longer an issue."
Weiss took a deep breath, sinking back against the seat cushion. "That's what I have to tell you, Jack," He said slowly. "Vaughn called me last night - for the last time."
Jack didn't react at first; he simply watched Weiss's face for a smile or a wink, something to indicate that he was joking. When no sign appeared, he sat back, also, a shadow passing over his face.
"What do you mean, `for the last time'?"
"They're disappearing completely, Jack," Weiss explained. "Vaughn said that after Madrid, they refuse to take any more chances. The stakes are higher now, and they want to protect themselves as well as me. He said that the only way he'd contact me now is in the case of an extreme emergency."
This news hung in the air between them for some time. Weiss quietly sipped his beer while Jack just stared down at the tabletop, his face masking his disappointment.
"Well," Jack said finally, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a ten- dollar bill and dropped it on the table. "Thank you, Agent Weiss, for your help." He drained the beer glass and set it heavily on the wooden table.
"Hey, Jack," Weiss grinned. "You should try calling me Eric."
Jack was not devoid of humor. "Only if you promise that you will never again call me Uncle Jack," He said, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile.
"It's a deal," Weiss nodded. He sensed that Jack wanted to leave, so he reached into his breast pocket, smiling as he did. He had saved the best news for last, just as Sydney had instructed him to do. "Before you go," Weiss said, catching Jack just as he stood up. "Syd and Vaughn had me pick up something for you."
Jack sat back down, sliding slowly into the booth as he studied the object Weiss held out to him. It was a pink bubblegum cigar, and Jack was confused by it until he reached out and took it. He turned it over in his hands and read aloud the words embossed on the gold seal that encircled it.
"It's a girl."
A light drizzle fell as Sydney Bristow walked the village path, the stones wet and slightly slippery beneath the soles of her hiking boots. The air was crisp and the rain cold as banks of gray winter clouds rolled across the sky. The pale, late morning sun was in hiding, leaving in its place a chill Sydney could not shake even as she picked up her pace and huddled within her dark blue rain slicker.
Pushing aside thoughts of the weather, Sydney pressed on, the path before her stretching on into dense foliage. Sydney ducked beneath an overhanging branch and almost lost her footing, steadying herself with a hand against a nearby tree trunk. Had the weather been slightly better, she would have enjoyed this walk, just as she had done many times before. But on this day she was replete with reflective, ponderous thoughts and didn't have patience for the tingling cold in her fingertips and toes.
At a place where a fork appeared in the path, Sydney veered to the right, taking the trail less traveled where the rocks were sharper, the edges overgrown with grass and weeds. She made her way carefully, raising her eyes to a plume of smoke that appeared ahead above a hedge of evergreens. Sydney moved on, the promise of warmth pushing her forward.
The path continued through the hedge and came into a clearing where a little house sat, secluded and surrounded by tall pine trees. Sydney approached the back door, pausing to gather firewood in her arms from the pile stacked against the house. After pushing the door open, she closed it again with her hip, leaning against it until she heard it latch.
After dropping the firewood into a waiting metal bin, Sydney straightened and listened for noise. She heard the quiet murmur of voices, deep within the house, and was momentarily comforted by the familiarity of it. This was the time of day when Vaughn would be watching the local French news broadcast while preparing lesson plans for the afternoon classes he taught at the village school. Sydney thought of this as she shook off her rain slicker and hung it on a hook by the door before slipping out of her boots and walking, sock-footed, into the cozy kitchen.
Sydney glanced at the wall clock as she went to the sink to rinse dirt from her hands. It was almost noon, and as she reached for a towel, she hoped the baby would nap a while longer. Vaughn would leave at around one o'clock and Sydney wished for peace and quiet after he was gone, just long enough for her to immerse herself inside her melancholy mood and exist in her thoughts for a while.
Standing at the kitchen window, Sydney gazed out at the rain. It was falling harder now, large drops splashing against the glass pane. She frowned, unhappy with her own mood, confused by her sadness. Nothing bad had happened; this was a day like many other days, waking up in this house with the man she loved and the child their love had created. There was no reason to be unhappy, but on this day, for some unknown reason, she wore it like an old pair of slippers, a comfort she wished to sink into when no one else was around.
Sydney turned from the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she shivered inside her thick gray sweater. The cold outside had seemed to seep into her bones. Crossing the room to the stove, she reached for the copper teakettle where it sat in its usual spot on the back burner. Sydney stopped short when she realized the burner was on, the kettle hot. She brought her hands close to it, soaking up the delicious warmth while puzzling over the water that was about to boil. Vaughn was not a tea drinker; he never put the kettle on unless Sydney requested it.
The kettle suddenly began to whistle, and Sydney watched it for a moment, finally drawing back to turn off the burner. As she did, she heard footsteps behind her on the hardwood floor and she turned her head, smiling as Vaughn appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He stopped short, watching her for a moment as she removed the kettle from the heated burner. "I didn't hear you come back," Vaughn said quietly.
"Somehow you knew I'd be cold," Sydney said, smiling still. The idea of Vaughn doing something sweet for her, like heating water in anticipation of her return, temporarily pushed her sadness into the far corners of her mind. She went to the cupboard and got herself a teacup and a tea bag. Setting them on the counter top, she glanced up at Vaughn once more as she reached into the utensil drawer for a spoon.
"You might want to get another cup," He said, watching her carefully.
Sydney stopped on her way back to the stove, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" She asked, Vaughn's quiet demeanor and watchful eyes suddenly striking her as suspicious.
It was then that she heard it, movement in the next room, footsteps on the hardwood, the creak and sigh of the old couch as someone sat down upon it. Sydney locked eyes with Vaughn, a look of panic overtaking her face. It was all she could do to gingerly set the spoon on the countertop; her first instinct was to fight, to protect the life of her child.
Vaughn quickly came to her, putting a hand over hers. "It's okay," He assured her, looping his free arm around her waist, gently rubbing her back. "Sydney," Vaughn leaned in and kissed her ear. "Your father is here."
Sydney fell away from him, almost losing her balance. As she gripped the counter top for support, her eyes searched Vaughn's face for any sign that he was kidding. When she found none, she immediately pushed past him and nearly ran into the living room. Jack Bristow quickly got to his feet as Sydney rushed to him, tears filling her eyes as she threw her arms around her father.
"Dad," She breathed, pressing her face into his shoulder, the wool of his sweater rough on her cheek. She inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave, felt the reassuring strength of his arms around her back and immediately she knew. She understood then what all the sadness had been about, the melancholy that had colored her day until this point. She had been homesick, lonely for the places and the people she could not see.
Until now.
"Sydney," Jack said her name as though it were a prayer, his voice catching in his throat. He had nearly forgotten how well his daughter filled his arms and his heart when she allowed him an embrace. He knew no better feeling.
Vaughn watched all this from the doorway, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The real thing far exceeded the image he'd held in his mind the moment Jack had walked into the house an hour before, just a few short minutes after Sydney had left through the back door for her daily walk through town.
"Dad," Sydney finally pulled back from him, his image blurry through her tears. "How?" She questioned. "When? I was only gone for a little while," She accepted his handkerchief as he held it out to her and quickly wiped her eyes. "How did you find us?"
Jack smiled. "It wasn't easy," He conceded. "I've been searching for you for six months."
In the next few minutes, Sydney and her father situated themselves on the couch, warm cups of tea in their hands. Vaughn had pulled over an easy chair and sat facing them, his lesson plans and the daily news forgotten. He'd heard most of the story already, but he knew he could not resist hearing Jack tell it again.
Jack detailed all the places in France he had been, the many times he'd felt he was close to them but not close enough. "It wasn't until I came across one of your contacts," Jack said, glancing up at Vaughn. "He let it slip that you had changed your names and forged your documentation to appear that you were French citizens. He wouldn't tell me the names you'd chosen, but he gave me a tip as to what part of the country I should concentrate on."
"He didn't know our names," Vaughn interjected. "I didn't tell him for this very reason."
Jack smiled at that. "It turns out he didn't need to," He said. "He had good information concerning what job you might be doing, and where," Jack paused. "It was only a matter of time before I traced you to this village, to the school where there was a new English teacher."
Sydney's eyes were wide as she glanced from her father to Vaughn and back again. "And the school told you where we live," She guessed.
"No," Jack said. "Actually, they wouldn't tell me anything but your name. And then it was just a matter of asking around town until I found someone who seemed to remember that Henri and Audra Laurent lived in a cottage in the forest."
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace as Sydney and Vaughn exchanged surprised glances and Jack sipped his tea. Sydney turned back to him, her eyes drinking him in, her mind full of disbelief that her father was actually sitting there, sharing space with her. It had just been a year since she'd last seen him, although at times it felt like decades.
"Dad," Sydney spoke up suddenly, her voice halting. "How's Mom?"
At the mention of Irina Derevko, Vaughn quickly stood, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "Syd," He said. "I have to go to school." He bent to kiss her cheek, after which he shook hands with Jack. "You'll stay for dinner?"
"Of course," Jack nodded, inwardly grateful for the invitation. Many times he had imagined this reunion, often with an outcome far different from the one he was actually experiencing. The fact that it was going so well flooded him with relief.
Sydney saw Vaughn to the back door, watching him walk down the stony trail until he disappeared from view beyond the evergreen hedge. Turning back into the house, Sydney called her father into the kitchen where they settled at the cozy kitchen table and resumed their conversation.
"Your mother is doing well," Jack said, stirring honey into his tea. "She continues to be helpful to the CIA, providing intel when necessary," He lifted his eyes to Sydney's, seeing in her face she was hungry for news. "She actually helped me try to find you, six months ago when I made the decision to start looking."
Sydney smiled to herself, the image of her parents collaborating on anything still foreign, yet welcome, to her. She sobered quickly as a question came to her mind, one she had wondered about for several months.
"Six months ago, that was after Madrid," Sydney stated. She stared down at her hands as she wrapped them tightly around her teacup. "Dad, do you know what happened with Dixon? When he got back to SD-6?"
Jack was not surprised. He had anticipated Sydney's concern and was quick to reassure her. He told her about Dixon seeking him out and about Dixon's reaction to learning the truth. "He was receptive, after a while," Jack said. "I took him in to the CIA, and he's working for us now."
Sydney's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "He's CIA?"
Jack nodded. "He's been working inside SD-6 as a double agent," He confirmed. Jack paused before going on, letting Sydney grasp the idea of Dixon taking her place in the fight against Arvin Sloane and the Alliance. It was a thought that felt good to her, and she turned it over in her mind several times, the weight of it displacing months of worry about her ex- partner and the things he had seen in Madrid.
Jack went on when he sensed Sydney relax inside the knowledge he had given her. "I'm sure Weiss told you how I tried to warn you after I was compromised," He said. Sydney nodded, and he continued. "After that, I felt rather non-productive. I had to stay in hiding most of the time, living in a CIA safe house. I was miserable. Devlin called me in and encouraged me to take a leave of absence, so I decided to travel Europe and try to locate you at the same time."
"You've been on leave for six months?" Sydney questioned, amazed by her father's dedication to locating her.
Jack shook his head. "No," He said, smiling slightly. "Devlin wouldn't allow it. I returned after one month and I've been working as Dixon's handler since that time."
Sydney was quiet for a moment, thinking of the work Dixon was doing. "Dad, about SD-6-"
"We're close," Jack interrupted. He met Sydney's eyes as she looked up at him questioningly. "Dixon is doing great work, and we've recently learned that there may be a hidden server that links all the SD cells. The CIA is working to find it, and when we do, the ramifications could be huge."
Sydney sank back into her chair, this new information settling inside of her like a long-lost puzzle piece. It was the answer to many questions and yet the catalyst for many more. Along side of that, Sydney was knicked by the sharp edge of doubt that often assailed her when she paused to think about the life she'd led before.
"I should be a part of it," Sydney said suddenly, completely letting down her guard, preparing to share feelings with her father that she dared not share with Vaughn. "I get that sense every once in a while, that the work began by me should also be completed by me."
Jack was troubled by her words. "Don't tell me you regret leaving that life," He said.
"No, I don't regret it," Sydney leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I just wonder at the wisdom of leaving my job unfinished." She rubbed her eyes, frustrated by the absence of the words she needed to correctly shape her thoughts.
"Dixon's finishing it," Jack said then, reaching across the table to lightly touch his fingers to Sydney's arm. "If your doubts are stemming from a desire to take down Arvin Sloane, that I can understand. Dixon shares that desire with you. He's doing everything he can to complete the task that you and Vaughn started."
Sydney was comforted by his words and his gentle tone. She reached out and grasped her father's hand, squeezing it tightly. It was then that Jack noticed the simple yellow gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand.
Sydney followed Jack's gaze and smiled softly. "Christmas Day," She said. "In a cathedral in Montrichard."
Unexpected emotions rose up in Jack as he remained quiet, a smile on his lips as he looked at the ring and the smile on his daughter's face. The kind of thoughts that almost never entered his mind passed through, leaving one behind that seemed to touch him in a place within that he vaguely knew but had never visited. Without thinking, he spoke it aloud.
"I didn't get to walk you down the aisle."
Sydney smiled as her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, Dad," She said, reaching to squeeze his hand once again. "I got married under a fake name. It's not even legal in the United States. If I ever go back to LA, we'll have to do it all over again, so you'll get your chance then."
Jack laughed outright, Sydney's reassurance striking him as humorous. It was all he could do sometimes, to stay sane within the life he led. Occasionally, he just needed to laugh. Sydney found it infectious and joined in, both of them forgetting to be quiet. As their chuckles trailed off, the sound of a baby's cry floated in from another room and Sydney quickly got to her feet.
"I'm glad she's awake," She said, smiling, tears still rimming her dark eyes. "I can't wait to introduce the two of you. I'll be right back."
Jack waited patiently while Sydney tended to the baby, changing her, wrapping her tightly in a soft pink blanket. When she reappeared in the kitchen, the sweet bundle in her arms, Jack couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath. The baby was beautiful, her head covered in golden brown curls, her green eyes alert as she took in the sight of this stranger in their house.
"Dad," Sydney came to him, holding the baby out to place into his waiting arms. "This is your granddaughter, Ava Miette Vaughn," She released the child to Jack, his arms encircling her as he cradled her against his body. Sydney then pulled her chair close to her father's and looked into her daughter's eyes. "Ava, this is your grandfather," She spoke the sentence in perfect French, reaching out to lightly brush a curl away from Ava's forehead.
"Ava Miette," Jack repeated the name softly, gazing down at his granddaughter. "A beautiful name for a beautiful baby."
Sydney couldn't help the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She did nothing to stop them as she watched her father get to know her daughter, an image she had dreamed about many times since the baby had been born. To see it in person was an indescribable gift.
Jack and baby Ava spent the afternoon together, Jack gracious to care for Ava as Sydney attended to a few household chores. She paused every once in a while to check in on them, gazing from the doorway as Jack entertained the baby with her plastic blocks or read to her from French children's books. Sydney marveled at how easily it came to him, the compassion and caring he showered on the child. She didn't question where it came from because she suspected she knew; regret can often make you attempt to do things better the second time around.
Vaughn arrived home at around four-thirty and immediately went looking for Ava. It was a daily ritual; he kissed his wife hello and then sought out his child, his desire to spend time with her having built up all afternoon, his thoughts on her even as he had taught his classes. He found Ava in her crib, Jack standing over her with a stuffed animal, making her giggle as he danced it along the wooden side railing.
Sydney was in the kitchen when Jack walked in, his hands in his pockets, his eyes shining. Sydney watched, pleased. She could not remember ever seeing her father this content.
"You speak French to her, primarily?" Jack asked, sitting down at the table and accepting another cup of tea as Sydney set it before him. She nodded as she turned back to the stove.
"We want her to learn English, as well, but it's safer for our cover if she speaks mainly French," Sydney picked up a wooden spoon and lifted the lid off of a pot of beef stew.
"I think you have a while before she starts talking," Jack interjected good- naturedly.
"Oh, no," Vaughn sang out as he entered the kitchen, Ava in his arms. "She's a genius baby, Jack. She'll be talking before she turns one!" He lifted Ava high into the air, wiggling her back and forth over his head until she giggled, following that with a hearty burp.
"Careful," Sydney warned, adding chopped carrots to the stew pot. "She's got a full tummy. I just fed her a half-hour ago."
"Do you need help with dinner?" Vaughn asked, nuzzling Ava's neck, kissing her rosy cheeks as he cradled her against his shoulder.
"No, I'm fine. Go play," Sydney smiled, knowing she couldn't keep him from it if she tired.
"Ahhh! It's Super Baby!" Vaughn held Ava out before him and swooped her through the air as he left the kitchen, heading back towards the nursery. Jack and Sydney watched him go, chuckling quietly.
The room grew quiet, the only sound the stew bubbling gently on the stovetop. Sydney replaced the lid and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before preparing herself another cup of tea. She brought it to the table just as Jack looked up at her, his eyes dark with feeling.
"Is he a good father?" He asked, breaking the silence between them.
Sydney was caught off-guard by the question, never before having given it much thought. "Yes," She answered, her voice rich with sincerity. "He's an excellent father."
Jack nodded as he grasped his teacup firmly, studying the surface of the hot beverage as it danced with reflections of the overhead light. "That's good," He said. Meeting Sydney's eyes, he spoke again, his voice bearing traces of regret. "We should always strive to give our children more than we had ourselves."
Sydney once again pulled a chair close to her father and sat down, reaching to rest her hand on his arm. "You're a good father, Dad," She said, heavy with emotion as tears stung her eyes.
"No, I'm not," Jack shook his head, holding up a hand to his daughter as she tried to interrupt. "I tried to keep you from all this," He told her, looking around the room. "I tried to hold you back from living a life. I told myself I was protecting you, but - protecting you from what? Happiness? Love?"
"Dad, I don't hold any of that against you," Sydney asserted. "You were doing what you thought was right."
"But I was wrong," Jack said forcefully. "I was wrong, and look at all I've missed out on," He looked away from her then, unable to meet her eyes. "I purposefully kept myself out of your life from the time you were six until just three years ago. And then I lost another year with you because I felt it was my right to influence a senate committee in order to keep you from repeating a mistake that I made years before you were even born."
"Dad-"
"No, Sydney, wait," Jack finally met her eyes again, pain etched into every detail of his face. "I'm sorry," He said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm truly sorry."
Sydney was frozen to her chair, stunned by her father's apology. "Dad," She said, finally finding her voice. "I have happiness, and I have love. The only thing you kept me from the past year is you. And now you're here. There's no reason for you to apologize."
"You're happy, then?" Jack questioned, the shadow of doubt starting to lift from his eyes.
"Yes," Sydney assured him. "It's been hard, this past year. I won't deny that. But I think most of the difficulty has come from homesickness. I've missed you, and Will, and Francie, and my mother," She watched as Jack's eyes dropped to the tabletop at the mention of Irina. Sydney followed his gaze, giving herself a chance to organize her thoughts. "I think that's why I said what I did earlier about SD-6. I don't really miss the double life and lying to everyone. Sometimes I just miss things that are familiar, like Will's messy hair and Francie's killer apple pie. And you, Dad. I miss you."
Jack looked up again as Sydney reached out to give his arm a squeeze. "I'm glad you're happy," He said finally. He thought for a moment before he added, "And I miss you, too."
"Damn Arvin Sloane," Sydney said, a flash of anger propelling her words. "I wish putting a bullet in his brain would solve this, but I know it wouldn't. The Alliance would still exist, and Vaughn and I would still have to live this nomad life, moving around every few weeks."
"We're close," Jack assured her, sipping his tea. "If we can find this supposed secret server, it could be the thread we can pull to unravel the whole damn thing."
"I hope that's true," Vaughn said from behind them as he entered the kitchen. "Ava's asleep again," He told Sydney. "I think Jack wore her out this afternoon."
Sydney got up from the table to finish preparing dinner. Vaughn set the table for her, then sliced a loaf of crusty French bread while she served up bowls of the delicious smelling stew. During the meal, the conversation bounced from one topic to the next, touching on the weather and the French countryside before inevitably returning to Los Angeles and the world of espionage.
"You will eventually return, won't you?" Jack asked hopefully, glancing from Sydney to Vaughn. "Once SD-6 and the Alliance have been dismantled?"
"I'd love to go back, at least to visit," Vaughn admitted. He grabbed another slice of bread before continuing. "I'd like Ava to experience America and have a chance to live there for a while. But the last time I spoke to Weiss, which was quite a while ago, he said that Devlin was not about to let bygones be bygones."
"We couldn't return to our jobs at the CIA," Sydney put in, reaching for the pitcher to refill Jack's water glass. "Not that I want to," She said, glancing at Vaughn.
"I might want to," He said suddenly. "If we decided to stay there for a while," He turned to Jack. "But they wouldn't take me, I'm sure. I didn't report for reassignment; we abandoned our jobs."
"The CIA isn't your average employer, Vaughn," Jack reminded him, setting down his spoon. "You could possibly be accepted back, after you'd completed an extensive debriefing, complete with rigorous psychological testing and polygraphic examinations."
"Oh, is that all?" Vaughn joked as he stood up from the table.
Jack smiled. "They would just want to be sure that you hadn't been working for the enemy during your time away," He explained. "I think once you'd proven that you hadn't, Devlin would accept you back. He'd chain you to a desk for a long period of time, but he would allow you to return."
"Weiss led us to believe Devlin was out for blood," Sydney said, getting up and beginning to clear the table.
"He's only responding to pressure being applied by Kendall," Jack told her, handing her his empty bowl. "His SD-6 operation was nearly destroyed, after you left and I was compromised. It made him look bad, and he wants to return the favor."
"Well, that settles it, then," Vaughn sighed heavily, returning to the table after tossing another log into the fireplace in the living room. "We can't return even if SD-6 and the Alliance are eliminated. The second we do, and Kendall catches wind of it, we'll be hauled in before the IOC. And I, for one, am not going through that again."
Sydney sympathized with every word he spoke. Returning to face the Intelligence Oversight Committee would be steps in a circle that she would go to any lengths to avoid, even if it meant never setting foot in Los Angeles again. The very thought of that was painful to her, and she quickly turned back to the dishes, eager for distraction.
Jack pushed back his chair and crossed his legs, watching the troubled faces of his daughter and son-in-law. He cleared his throat before sharing news that he expected they would find as nothing but good.
"Kendall is retiring in a year," Jack said off-handedly, implying nothing and everything all at once. "It's already been decided, regardless of how well the SD-6 operation goes between now and then."
Sydney and Vaughn both raised their eyes to Jack, watching him curiously. Sydney was the first to speak.
"Do you think SD-6 and the Alliance will be toppled by then?" She asked hopefully.
Jack shrugged. "Honestly, I do, especially if this new information pans out."
Vaughn's eyes narrowed as he lost himself in deep thought for a few moments. "My better judgment tells me not to ask questions," He ventured, looking up at Jack. "But I can't help it. Who first heard about the alleged secret server?"
The two men traded ideas back and forth for the next few minutes, Jack offering facts and suspicions while Vaughn put in his opinion and asked questions. Sydney started to wash the dinner dishes, filling the sink with warm, sudsy water. She couldn't help but smile as she stood listening to the two most important men in her life debating the finer points of bringing down an evil counter-intelligence organization. In any other life, it would have been ludicrous. In hers, it felt like home.
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A/N: Well, this has been an absolute blast. Sorry for the delay before updating; I pondered over this chapter for quite a while. I hope the wait was worth it.