A/N: These thoughts take place up to the season three eppy "The Two". All spoilers are unintentional.
It's so easy to blame your problems on someone else. I could blame my father for being distant when I was a child. I could blame Sloane for being a bastard. I could blame Vaughn for losing faith. But I won't… because it wouldn't be fair.
All through my life I've been a pawn in some fucked up chess game. Project Christmas, SD-6, my mother's supposed loyalties, I've never been able to really know the truth. Whenever I think I know some shred of truth, something or someone comes along and pulls the earth right out from under me.
This disappearing act doesn't help matters either. It did solidify one thing though… I love my father and he actually loves me back. Seeing him behind that glass so different from the man I thought I knew amazed me. Loss does that to a person. I'm just glad my dad appreciates me now.
I always felt that I was never good enough when it came to my dad. Maybe I reminded him how Mom took advantage of his heart. I don't know, but I hated it. I hated him for the longest time. Now with all that's happened, he's like the only person I can trust. That always believed. That never gave up searching for me. It was that zealous fervor that got him put in prison. In some twisted way… it makes me proud that Jack Bristow is my father.
My father loves me.
He loved me enough to make a pact with the devil to bring me home.
The crazy thing is… I wouldn't hesitate to do the same.
Because I love my dad.