Can you hear it,
A cry to be free?
**********
Tick, tick, tick.
His head rests on his arm, his watch just behind his ear. So close, he can hear the tiny second hand jerking by. Tick, tick, tick. He blinks in the amber light, drawing the offending watch away from his ear and the rough material of his starched cotton shirt across his face. He twists his head up, toward the amber light, and his face again scratches against the rough material of his sofa. He sighs heavily, and can still hear the watch.
It's joined by a rhythmic tapping at his door. He heaves himself up, off the sofa, and crosses unsteadily to the door. He looks through the peephole this time, and sees a brown eye blazing on the other side. Again.
With another sigh, he opens the door, still blinking in the light.
"Yes?"
"May I come in?" Her voice is soft, her smile ingratiating. She switched tactics; this does not bode well. He opens the door further and steps aside, but does not speak. She steps through, her eyes sweeping the place, taking in the slept-on sofa, the piled-up junk mail, the left-out grocery bags and the half-empty scotch glass. She does not speak, but her jaw tightens as she steps over a pile of junk mail and sits on the sofa.
Her movements are measured, with studied ease. She sits in the center of the sofa, lounging back, arms placed wide to either side and legs stretched out in front of her. She's taking up space, appearing at ease while she forces him to sit uncomfortably close to her or pull up a different seat. Her father's daughter.
He does not sit, but stands, towering over her.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if we could talk." Her eyes, round and brown, glint up at him.
"Sydney, I realize what you're doing here, but it's unnecessary." His voice is quiet; it does not carry the same sting it did last week.
"Dad, I'm worried about you."
"You shouldn't be."
"I was there at the hearing. I heard the judge, and I've listened to Kendall's rant every day for the last five weeks. You've got to take this seriously."
"Sydney, I assure you that I have never taken my work for the CIA anything but seriously. Your concern is appreciated, but misplaced."
She drops her eyes, studying the dusty carpet. Her voice is whispery, serious.
"Dad,"
His tone is even. "Sydney, as I said, there's no cause for concern. Perhaps it's best we end this conversation before it becomes anything else." He crosses to the door, hand on the handle, but does not pull it open. She draws a breath, eyes still on the floor, then jerks her head up resolutely.
"Okay." She is off the couch and to the door in one motion, head high, shoulders squared, eyes glistening. He opens the door and she strides out without another word.
He closes the door with a soft click. He leans against it, closing his eyes. He does not need a lecture from a twenty-six-year-old. He does need some aspirin. His head throbs with last night, the scotch, the strain, the dreams. And the ticking. He reaches down to remove his watch, dropping it on the couch as he passes, heading for the bathroom with its economy-sized aspirin bottle.
****************
He is on time today, waiting in the conference room before even Kendall arrives. Kendall almost jumps with the shock of seeing him in his normal seat, suit pressed and file folders arranged neatly before him. He glances up, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
"You had questions on the latest Echelon data?" He uses his most businesslike tone, flipping open the top file.
"Ye -- um, yes. But let's wait until we have everyone here."
Jack nods and flips the folder shut, templed fingers resting on top of it. Kendall glances back toward the door and uses the arrival of the others to mask his shaking head.
…
"So we're sending a team in. Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn, you'll go in as a team of researchers and make copies of the schematics. Agent Weiss, you'll be in the van providing backup. Marshall will explain the tech."
…
Jack rises with the rest of them, arranging and shuffling papers and meticulously placing every file in order, until only he and Kendall remain. Kendall steps toward the door, his hand on the knob.
"I believe I should enter the facility with the team." Kendall freezes. He turns slowly back to Jack, as if uncertain about what he just heard.
"What?"
"You heard me. I believe I should go in with the team."
"Jack, there are plenty of reasons why--"
"I debriefed Derevko on the operations of that facility. I'm in a better position to know its operations and layout than anyone here."
Kendall crosses back to the table, leaning toward Jack as his hands grip the back of a chair.
"Jack, I could go into all the reasons why that is a bad idea, but I don't think either one of us wants to hear that. You will be at ops center aiding the operation. Why don't we drop this conversation before leads to anything embarrassing."
Jack's jaw tightens, but his gaze and tone remain even.
"Very well."
He picks up the folders and crosses to the door, Kendall's eyes following him. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, his back to the other man.
"You know, one thing about my court martial still puzzles me." He pauses, looking back at Kendall. "So much time was spent investigating the malfunction of the tracking device, which happened while she was in my care, but almost no time was devoted to the disappearance of the manuscript, which happened while she was in your care. Well, I suppose it's water under the bridge. See you this afternoon."
****************
"Dad, you're going on the mission?" Sydney dropped her blonde wig onto the table.
"Yes. Since I gathered the intel on this facility from Derevko, Kendall felt it would be best if I accompanied the team."
She lowers her voice, glancing to ensure no one else is in earshot.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"Sydney, do you think I would ever endanger our team?" His eyes flash, but his tone is not as harsh as she expected.
She purses her lips, and gives him a slight nod. "See you on the plane."
**************
When he leaves the office, it's after seven. His body and mind head toward home, but his feet pull him in another direction. Sighing, he follows, counting the number of hours remaining before they depart on the mission tomorrow.
The familiar sound accost his ears, the familiar smells assault his nose. He takes a seat at a different stool tonight, closer to the door. He stays, but only for an hour. He thinks about the day when he will not come at all.