Author's note: Thank you everyone for your review so far. I'm glad you are all enjoying it and that I'm able to keep you interested. I don't want to ruin the story so Erin, Kimmers and everyone else who submitted reviews you all will have to read on and find out what happens. (Hint: look at the summary, it's not obvious, but it is a clue.)

Chapter 3

The news of Sydney's death did not remain secret from the public very long as the reporters passed off the accident as another "fatal robbery attempt" that according to the news reporters was becoming an increasing problem. The funeral was to be held four days after her death. The ceremony was to be small as it consisted only those at SD-6 and close friends. Agents of the CIA could not attend due to the fact that their presence would arise suspicion on Jack.

Jack Bristow had not been to work since the incident and Irina Derevko had refused to speak to anyone. Vaughn had been to work, but his mind was no where in sync with his daily routines. Nothing could remove the image of Sydney's face from his mind. Nothing could keep him from thinking of her. Weiss had not even attempted to console him in such a depressed state, for he knew that nothing could penetrate his thoughts of his lost love.

* * *

Jack Bristow skimmed the crowd of well wishers. Some he looked on with memorable sadness, such as Francie and Will. Others, he wished were buried under the soil in which they were standing. In other words, Arvin Sloane.

On any other day Jack Bristow would have sustained his anger over the affection Sloane bestowed upon his daughter with moderate ease, but today it was a struggle. Sloane had already wished his condolences for Jack's loss and it had taken everything Jack had not to punch him in the face right then and there, but it was really the next thing that Sloane said that made Jack actually want to kill him on the spot. Arvin Sloane had requested to speak at the service.

The turmoil within Jack Bristow at the moment the question rolled of Sloane's tongue was indescribable. Especially when he knew that his only choice was to say yes. However, it wasn't until Slaone finally left his sight that Jack could breath again, but in doing so, he was overcome once again with the anguish of losing his only daughter.

He looked solemnly at the casket the stood not fifty feet away from him. No father or mother should have to go threw what he was going threw right now. No parent should have to bury his or her own child. In any case it should be the other way around. His agony was so pronounced and unrelenting that how he managed to keep his infamous void expression was uncertain.

He looked at his watch and realized it was time to start the service. He and the minister worked to get everyone seated, and the ceremony began. Jack really didn't pay attention to the minister's words, as he looked around at his surroundings. The day in itself was patronizing in its beauty. The sun was shinning, the birds were singing, and there was not a cloud in the sky.

The ironic twist was how beautiful Wilmington Cemetery was on a day that contained so much sorrow. Every occupant within the plastic-white fold out chairs was dressed in some sort of shade of black, including the casket the minister currently stood in front of as he spoke.

Finally, the minister's part of the service was over, and it was time for Sydney's friend's to speak out. First was Francie. Jack really didn't know much about her, but she made his daughter happy in having such a wonderful friend.

"I have known Sydney for a long time," Francie began. "And she has been nothing but a wonderful person to me. She's helped me in several major decisions in my life, and for that I'll never forget her, but she was more than a friend to me, she was my sister." Francie paused as tears began to appear. "In many instances I'm sure she would have proclaimed to you that she needed me more than I needed her, but that is simply not true, because I'm telling you I've lost a sister." The tears began to pour down Francie's cheeks. "The time we spent together will be a cherished vision for me, and it is in that way that I-I'll never forget her." Francie nodded to the group and stepped down from the podium. Next up was Will Tippin.

He approached the podium. He looked straight at the audience, as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say, and meant it. "I've been a journalist for most of my life," Will began, "And I've been able to describe the truth in every form. But as I stand here before you all today, to say good-bye to my friend, I find it difficult just to express what she meant to me. Sydney was," Will stumbled over the words, "Sydney was an amazing person. She died young, and for that it's hard, but it would be wrong to say that her life wasn't fulfilled. In her life, she helped many people and she left those of us behind with many memories. Sydney may be gone, but it's not completely good-bye. My friend will always be with me, and with that, she'll always be with all of you. Thank you," Will concluded. The words sounded awkward to his own ears, but he hoped his point got across, because he believed in everything he had said.