It had been 9 weeks. Irina visited frequently, bringing books and news. She was not, of course, allowed into his cell, but the chats were enjoyable all the same. He had briefly debated demanding conjugal privileges, but had decided not to provide the Ops Center team the entertainment that he knew such a request would generate. Apart from the odd passing fantasy of taking her against the glass, he had himself well under control.
Sydney had not come to visit. It was an eventuality that Jack had steeled himself against for 2 years; but the implications of her absence hurt all the same.
**
...78....79....80...
Footsteps. Lighter and faster than Irina's.
Sydney.
Jack scrambled to his feet. He schooled his face into impassiveness, attempting to hide his nervousness, before turning around. Slowly he approached the glass.
"Hello, Sydney." She looked great, he thought to himself with relief. Healthy. "What can I do for you?" There, that sounded casual, didn't it? As if he hadn't waited 9 weeks for this moment?
Sydney twirled her hair anxiously for a few seconds, then looked up. "I've come to say good bye, Dad."
Not a muscle moved in Jack's face. "I see," he said evenly.
"I'm leaving the CIA. I've finished what I started."
"Yes."
"I won't have access anymore to you...here."
"No." Jack's brain was only thinking in monosyllables now.
"And even if I did...I think I'd still be saying goodbye."
Jack was conscious of not being able to breathe, of the pain building up in his chest.
"What you did...was wrong on so many levels. The people you've hurt. Me. Vaughn. Marshall. People I don't know, and will never meet, because they're dead." Sydney was crying now. "I can't even watch the interrogation tapes. You did that all in my name."
Sydney leaned forward to the glass and said in a low, furious voice. "I wouldn't have chosen that and you. knew. it."
Jack was pale now, but his voice didn't falter. "I'm sorry, Sydney. I had to make my choices. You'll have to make your own."
"And I'm making one now, Dad. Goodbye."
Heart breaking, Jack watched her go. The clang of the metal gate closing after her departing figure only accentuated the finality of her words.
Sydney had not come to visit. It was an eventuality that Jack had steeled himself against for 2 years; but the implications of her absence hurt all the same.
**
...78....79....80...
Footsteps. Lighter and faster than Irina's.
Sydney.
Jack scrambled to his feet. He schooled his face into impassiveness, attempting to hide his nervousness, before turning around. Slowly he approached the glass.
"Hello, Sydney." She looked great, he thought to himself with relief. Healthy. "What can I do for you?" There, that sounded casual, didn't it? As if he hadn't waited 9 weeks for this moment?
Sydney twirled her hair anxiously for a few seconds, then looked up. "I've come to say good bye, Dad."
Not a muscle moved in Jack's face. "I see," he said evenly.
"I'm leaving the CIA. I've finished what I started."
"Yes."
"I won't have access anymore to you...here."
"No." Jack's brain was only thinking in monosyllables now.
"And even if I did...I think I'd still be saying goodbye."
Jack was conscious of not being able to breathe, of the pain building up in his chest.
"What you did...was wrong on so many levels. The people you've hurt. Me. Vaughn. Marshall. People I don't know, and will never meet, because they're dead." Sydney was crying now. "I can't even watch the interrogation tapes. You did that all in my name."
Sydney leaned forward to the glass and said in a low, furious voice. "I wouldn't have chosen that and you. knew. it."
Jack was pale now, but his voice didn't falter. "I'm sorry, Sydney. I had to make my choices. You'll have to make your own."
"And I'm making one now, Dad. Goodbye."
Heart breaking, Jack watched her go. The clang of the metal gate closing after her departing figure only accentuated the finality of her words.