"Vaughn!"

"Sydney." Vaughn stepped quickly into her room, carrying books and spare clothing.

"Where's my dad?" she said anxiously.

"He said he'd stop up a little later. He's... recovering."

"Oh God. Tell me what happened."

"I'm not really sure what happened, Sydney. He disappeared last night. He had set up a regular contact with me. When he missed it, I knew they had found him. Marshall and I waited for his signal and, sure enough, it came in as planned. But then it just stopped. Before we could narrow it down beyond the city level."

Vaughn started pacing in frustration. "Sydney, I feel like I let him down, but I don't know what else I could have done. I had a team on site, ready to move in, waiting for final coordinates. They came in 3 hours later, just as my plane touched down. When we reached the location, Sloane and your mother were gone. Your father had been tortured, Sydney. He was a real mess."

Sydney bit her lip. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes, the doctors think he'll make a quick recovery."

"If he was in such bad shape, how did he activate the transmitter?"

Vaughn remembered finding Jack, slumped in the chair unconscious, his fingers taped together. He had drawn his own conclusions. "You'll have to ask him."

**

For the hundredth time in the last 4 days, Irina's thoughts strayed to Jack. Abandoning him, in the condition he had been in, had taken every ounce of willpower she had possessed. When they had been married, she had always helped him recover from his missions. Now who was making sure he got proper medical care, and didn't shrug it off? Making sure he was getting enough rest? Helping him get back to sleep after he was awoken by nightmares?

No one, Irina realized with pain. She had long ago hardened herself to the realization that no one would be there for her. But the thought of no one being there for Jack ...

Irina knew that she should be grateful that she had been able to leave him alive. Sloane's jubilance at extracting the encryption key from Jack had been short-lived, once Irina informed him that Jack had somehow set off a transmitter. It was the 3rd time in 3 months that Jack had almost snared them; it had taken all of Irina's persuasive talents to prevent Arvin from shooting Jack through the head on their way out of the building.

Once more on the run, Irina had been busy setting up a new base of operations and assisting Sloane with the mapping of the flower's genetic code against their database. Her need to see Jack again was overwhelming, and she would soon need his help. It was time to contact him.

**

Jack sat at his desk, unable to concentrate on the report in front of him. His recovery from Sloane's ministrations had been remarkably rapid, with few physical after effects. With one exception. Gently he probed his jaw, which was still slightly swollen. He wished Irina would learn to pull her punches. Perhaps he should grow a beard.

He was not sleeping well at night, but that was to be expected. He knew from experience that it would take him several weeks to work through whatever subconscious terrors still remained from his ordeal. Scotch helped.

It had been four days since he'd last seen Irina and Sloane, and the lack of sightings or contact was making him uneasy. He'd given Irina everything she had needed, and now was forced to wait while she played out her strategy. Whatever that was. And to try to provide her some air cover in the meantime. Which was remarkably difficult to do when he didn't know what she had in mind. He growled in frustration. The next time he saw her, he would make sure she told him everything, or he would throttle it out of her.

Time was not something Jack had much more of. Jack looked at the draft of his report to Devlin on Mexico City. There were gaping holes in it that he knew would be obvious to any of the analysts who would review it. Marshall and Vaughn were both preparing their mission summaries; Jack could only hope that Marshall would neglect to mention the PDA in his. Jack's unorthodox approach to accessing the classified database, in conjunction with his decision to voluntarily surrender the encryption code, could only be interpreted as a gross breach of national security laws.

Jack acknowledged that part of his frustration was his desire to see Irina again. She owed him an explanation. He owed her an apology. They both owed each other-

His cellphone rang. "Bristow."

"Meet me at the San Matteo pier at 2pm." The phone went dead.