Irina watched her daughter peek her head around the curtain, eyes vainly searching the audience for her father.  Jack was, of course, nowhere to be found.  Irina drummed her fingers impatiently against her knee, resisting the urge to call her associate for an update on Jack's location. 

Sergei had chided her earlier on the frequency of her calls. 

"Irochka, he is safe and on his way home. We will get him there in plenty of time."

"You almost didn't, Sergei."

"Your husband was not too certain that we were his benevolent rescuers. I don't blame him for being suspicious. Every good spy understands the concept of good cop/bad cop." 

"So he didn't trust you. Does he know who set him up?"

"I didn't have a chance to find out.  When we pulled him from that cell, he was so weak he could barely stand.  We practically carried him out of that prison. I thought it would be better to grill him when he was a bit stronger. Carlos was watching him, but he misjudged the man. Your husband waited for his opportunity and was gone a good thirty minutes before anyone realized it."

"Do I detect a note of admiration in your voice, Seriozha?"

"I admit he is not what I thought.  I put my best men out to track him.  If not for our knowledge that he was anxious to return home, we would not have located him."

"He graduated first in his class," Irina told him proudly.

"He is not the fool I thought him.You must have been exceptionally good to have tricked him for so long."

"He loved me.  If he had not…" Irina closed her eyes, squeezing back the tears.  "Have you discovered who was behind his kidnapping?"

"Yes. We have the men who took him. Arvin Sloane hired them. That's why they captured Bristow so easily.  They picked him up right from the airport. As it was, they almost didn't get him. Bristow must have sensed something was wrong, because he altered the plan. They ended up shooting him with a tranquilizer."

"Did they…hurt him?"

"He may have some cracked ribs and his arm wasn't looking good."

"All right.  Let me know as soon as he lands in L.A."

"Ira…."

"There's something else?"

"You are right about how much he loved you."

Irina's heart leapt in her throat.  "What…" she took a deep breath to steady her shaking hand.  "Why do you say that?"

"He had a picture of you and Sydney hidden in his luggage."

"He had a picture of me?"

"You are holding your daughter in your lap and …"

"…Sydney is wearing a pink shirt that says 'Daddy's little girl'," she finished for him.  "That's his lucky picture. Do you have the photograph?"

"Yes, why?  Are you planning on giving it back to him?"

"It is his," she reminded him.

"Irina, you are not planning on doing anything foolish?  This photograph is of Laura, not you."

"I am Laura."

"You were Laura. Laura is dead. She is dead to both of you."

"Sergei, you are very annoying…"

"But you know I am right."

"Yes, of course.  Don't worry.  I won't do anything foolish."

Irina rested against the back wall of the auditorium, glad that Sergei was half a world away.  She felt pretty certain that attending Sydney's Christmas concert fell in the category of foolish things.  Her disguise was good and would fool anyone doing a cursory surveillance. The blonde wig and heavy makeup would only momentarily hide her from Jack's sharp eyes, but she should be fairly safe if she stayed behind the large Sony video camera she'd brought to tape her daughter's piano solo.

She scanned the audience again, her eyes searching out Jack's familiar form.  A side door opened and she breathed a sigh of relief.  With only moments to spare, Jack carefully made his way down the aisle to the section reserved for parents, a large bag tucked under his arm. 

Irina frowned in concern, as she noticed the slowness in his step and the stiff way he held his body.  He barely made it to his seat before the lights went down.  She was glad to see he was given an aisle seat; his longer legs needed the room to stretch.  Irina settled into her own chair directly behind him, eyes trained on his back as the freshman band took its place on the platform.  This was the closest she'd been to him in ten years and she planned on taking full advantage of his proximity. 

As the band played holiday tunes, Irina studied her husband.  He had filled out a bit over the past ten years, but in a good way.  There was a tension in the set of his shoulders that had not been there before.  His hair was shorter than she liked, cropping off most of the curls, but it suited him.  There was a recent razor nick under his jaw, evidence that he had shaved hurriedly before heading to the auditorium.  He stirred uncomfortably in the chair, a grimace of pain contorting his features.  Irina ached to comfort him, but knew the folly in that move. 

The first band filed off the stage, while a brass quartet played an unusual rendition of Handel's Messiah. Irina leaned back against the seat, enjoying the robustness of the "Hallelujah Chorus".  Handel was her favorite composer. She smiled softly, remembering the passionate arguments she and Jack enjoyed when discussing classical music.  The quartet handled the music remarkably well, considering they were teenagers, bringing the audience to their feet when they finished.

The video camera sat heavily on Irina's lap, in preparation for Sydney's solo which would follow a madrigal number by the choir. According to her program, they were the next group to perform.  As the final notes of the madrigal faded away, Sydney stepped out onto the stage awaiting her introduction. Irina's camera followed her daughter as she crossed the stage to take her place at the piano, catching the moment Sydney realized her father was seated in the audience. 

Irina watched with pride as her daughter started to play.  The complexity of the piece was evident even to a non-musician.  'Mozart', she realized immediately. The music was familiar, her memory finally placing it as she heard the recurring melody of "Alleluia". "Exsultate, Jubilate" had always been one of Jack's favorites.  The musical arrangement was interesting, with a number of complicated variations on the theme.  She would have to find out where Sydney obtained the piano version of the orchestral motet.

As the solo drew to a close, the audience rose quickly to their feet, intuitively understanding they had been given a rare treat in a high school auditorium.  Sydney's eyes sought out her father's and she smiled happily at his approving nod. 

Relaxing back into her seat, Irina ignored the remainder of the evening program.  Instead, she mentally replayed each moment of Sydney's solo. Her daughter had come a long way from her first lessons as a six year old.  Irina smiled at a memory of Sydney's first recital and the endless practicing of  "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and "Three Blind Mice".  When she finished playing, she'd done much the same as this time, her young eyes seeking her father's approval.  Jack had given Sydney a dozen roses that afternoon and she had been thrilled, showing them off to everyone in the room.

As the holiday concert concluded, the lights in the auditorium fell dark. Irina rose to leave, but found the aisle next to her blocked by a woman in a wheel chair. She watched in nervous fascination as the woman tapped Jack on the shoulder.

"Hello, Jack. Sydney did well tonight. I think I was more nervous than she was. You must be feeling quite proud of her."

"She was wonderful, Sarah." he agreed.  "I can't believe how far you've brought her since you took over her piano lessons three years ago."

"Mrs. Adams gave her an excellent grounding. I merely expanded on that."

Jack nodded at the woman's leg. Irina's eyes followed his, noting the large white cast covering the foot and extending to the mid-calf.  "What happened to your foot?"

"Sydney didn't tell you?  It was the stupidest thing. I was learning how to skateboard and I slipped.  I'm just glad I didn't break my wrist or my piano career would over for a while."

"I'm sure a teacher with your talent would do well despite a broken wrist." Jack pointed to the program.  "I didn't realize "Exsultate, Jubilate" was available as a piano solo. Where did you find it?"

"I didn't.  Sydney and I did an orchestral reduction."

"That must have been very … involved.  Surely you could have found something suitable without going to so much trouble?"

"Sydney insisted on this piece and she was quite willing to put in the work to do it.  I wish all my students were as enthusiastic."

"Hey, Dad." Sydney hugged her piano teacher.  "I did it, Miss Jones.  I was so nervous, but I remembered what you said.  I closed my eyes and pretended I was at your house for a dress rehearsal."

"You should be very proud, Sydney.  I don't think I could have played that any finer."

"Thank you, for helping me with … everything. " 

"You're very welcome, Sydney.  It is always a pleasure to work with you." The woman unlocked the brakes on the chair. "Well, I have to go.  There is a cab with my name on it waiting for me outside.  I'll see you next Wednesday, Sydney."

"Bye, Miss Jones." Sydney turned excitedly to her father.  "I'm glad you made it back in time, Dad."

"I told you I would be here, Sydney," Jack told her brusquely. He reached for the bag he'd brought in earlier and took out a bouquet of roses and handed them to his daughter.  Peace roses, Irina noted.  "Congratulations, sweetheart.  You played beautifully." Jack patted his daughter's shoulder awkwardly.  "I know if your mother were still alive, she would have been very proud."

"Thanks. I felt like she was there, telling me to be calm."  Sydney brushed back a tear. "My band teacher, Mr. Watkins said he wanted to meet with you after the concert.  I'll take you to him."

Jack flinched when he stood. 

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"It's nothing, Sydney.  I went skiing with my client this morning and pulled a muscle."

"You went skiing this morning?  Your secretary said you were trapped …" Sydney stopped and took a deep breath. "She lied for you!  The least you could have done was told me you would be late getting here."  She threw the flowers back at him.  "To think I was worried about you.  I hate you!"

Irina sat back against her chair, too stunned to move as she watched her daughter stomp off. Why had Jack not made up a better lie about his injuries?  He was the best game theorist she knew. It was the kind of mistake a new recruit would make, not a seasoned veteran like her husband. He had to know he would have received a more sympathetic reaction had he said he had been injured in a car accident.

"I wouldn't take it personally, Mr. Bristow." Irina turned to look at the slim blonde addressing Jack.  Her eyes narrowed as she took in the provocatively dressed woman standing next to her in the aisle.  "Teenagers are so volatile at this stage in their lives." She held out a well-manicured hand. "I'm Alyssia Meadows, Sydney's advisor."

Irina snorted.  Advisor? She was acting more like a feral cat in heat. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the woman hold Jack's hand much longer than was necessary.

"Oh yes, Miss Meadows.  You've requested a meeting.  I apologize for not scheduling it yet."

"That's quite all right," she responded, bending down to pick up Sydney's discarded flowers. The maneuver gave anyone within range, and Jack in particular, a clear view of the woman's bosom, and the lack of a bra. "Your daughter has mentioned that you are often called away on business."  The woman gave a trilling laugh, reminding Irina of nails scraping a chalkboard. "Sydney did a marvelous job on the Mozart piece.  He's always been one of my favorite composers." 

"I bet," Irina muttered under her breath. "She probably doesn't know a motet from a motif."

"He was a true genius. The Los Angeles Philharmonic has an all Mozart festival scheduled next Friday…"

Irina gasped.  Jack was going to ask the hussy out.  She looked around quickly for something to distract him.

"Dad!  We have to leave."  Sydney.  God bless her.  "Oh, hi Miss Meadows.  My father just got back from a business trip and I need to discuss some things with him."

"That's fine, Sydney.  I look forward to meeting with you, Mr. Bristow."

"I'll call you on Monday." 

"Miss Meadows?"  Sydney brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  "I believe those are my flowers?"

"What?  Oh, yes.  Here you are.  I found them on the floor."

"I must have dropped them by accident."

The advisor's eyes narrowed.  "Yes, of course you did. I look forward to your call, Mr. Bristow.  Good night."

"Sydney." Jack's voice was disapproving.  "You owe Miss Meadows an apology.  That was very rude."

Sydney pursed her lips angrily.  "You were about to ask her out, weren't you?"

"The thought crossed my mind.  She's a lovely woman and she likes Mozart."

"That's funny, she didn't seem all that familiar with him last week when she asked me about my solo. Besides, you can't go out with her; it's against school rules."

"School rules?" Jack asked, amused.

"It's considered a conflict of interest.  Parents cannot date members of the school staff."

"Miss Meadows doesn't seem to be aware of the rule."

"She's new. I'm sure the Principal will let her know."

"Well, I guess I'll have to ask Miss Jones to the concert. She prefers Debussy, but I know she appreciates Mozart."

"Daaaaad.  In case you didn't notice, she broke her leg.  You'll just have to take me."

"You would go with me to a Mozart festival?"

"Mr. Watkins will give me extra credit."

"Mr. Watkins is your band teacher?  You said he wanted to speak to me."

"Yeah.  He's waiting for you in the band room."

"You better take me to him, then."  Jack stood and another wave of pain engulfed him.  He sat down heavily into the chair.  "Sydney, maybe we could make it another time?"

"Dad?"  Sydney shook him on the shoulder.  "Dad?  Oh my god. Dad?" She looked around, frightened.  "Excuse me, ma'am.  Could you call 911 for me?  Something is wrong…"

Irina nodded, mutely.  Slipping away from her daughter, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number for emergencies.  She quickly gave the address to the operator and was about to hang up when the operator told her she needed more details.

"He's 41 years old.  March 18, 1950.  Six foot two.  I believe he said he was injured in an accident earlier today. Yes, he's still breathing. Allergies? Yes, he's allergic to morphine products.  Please hurry."

"Daddy, please tell me what's wrong," Sydney whispered, her voice shaking with fear.

Irina looked at Jack, torn between the need to make sure he was okay and the need to direct the paramedics in as quickly as possible.  Running her hand through her hair, she made the decision to wait for the paramedics.  Jack needed to be hospitalized quickly.  It wouldn't do for the paramedics to have to waste time searching for him.


"Miss Bristow?"  One of the paramedics drew Sydney aside.  "Your father needs to go to the hospital.  He has a couple broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a possible fracture to his right wrist.  There may be other injuries."  The paramedic glanced down at his notepad. "These wounds are pretty serious and it doesn't look as though he's received any treatment yet.  Do you know how he got them?"

"He told me he pulled a muscle this morning when he was skiing," she looked up from her father's still form, her face a mix of confusing emotions.  "His secretary said there was a bad storm but no one was hurt." 

"Do you have someone who can bring you to the hospital, Miss Bristow?"

"I can't ride with him in the ambulance?"

"Yes, but it might be better if you have another adult with you."

"I don't have anybody.  It's just my dad and me."

"Very well.  The ambulance will be here in just a few minutes."

"Sir? Is he … will he be…"  Sydney stumbled over the words.

"He's in a great deal of pain. The doctor will know the full extent of his injuries after we get him to the hospital.  But you want to know if he's going to die, right?"

Sydney nodded mutely. 

"As far as I can tell, he doesn't have any life-threatening injuries, but we won't know for sure until the x-rays are taken. The broken ribs could hamper his breathing. If the injuries happened earlier today, then it's likely that it's nothing more serious than a few broken bones."

Sydney bit her lip and followed the paramedic back to her father.  "Why did he pass out?"

"He's in a great deal of pain.  I'm amazed he has gone this long untreated."

Sydney grabbed her father's hand and gave it squeeze.  "Why didn't you tell me, Daddy?"  Jack moaned softly. 

"Okay, Miss Bristow.  The ambulance is here.  Are you ready to go?"

Sydney nodded; watching as a new set of paramedics began working on her father.   They moved him to a backboard, quickly lifting him to the gurney.  She followed them to the ambulance and climbed in after they locked her father in place. The paramedics strapped her into a bi-fold chair at the front of the vehicle, out of their way, but still within reach of her father.  She placed a shaky hand on his shoulder.

"We've given him some medication to ease the pain, miss.  Nothing with morphine, since he's allergic. Once the doctor examines him, you should consider going home and getting some rest. The doctor will put him on something a bit stronger and he will probably sleep most of the night.  A Mrs. Calfo and her daughter are following us to the hospital.  She said you can stay with her and she will bring you back again in the morning."

"I should stay with him…"

"Take my advice, miss.  He'll be asleep and you'll want to be rested when he does wake up."

Jack stirred, his face contorting with pain.  He covered the hand on his shoulder and whispered a name. 

"No, Daddy.  It's me, Sydney."

"Sydney. Where are we?"

"You are on the way to the hospital."

"Hospital? I don't need to go…" He groaned, another spasm of pain wracking his body.  "Tell them I'm allergic to morphine. Ask your mother, she knows."

"How do we contact your mother, miss?"

"You can't. My mother is dead."

"I heard her voice."

"Dad…"

"He's probably hallucinating. Some medications have that effect."

"Sydney? Tell the doctor I'm allergic to cod liver oil, too."

"Dad!  You are not."

"Just tell him. If I know your grandmother, she's stocking up right now."

Sydney looked up at the paramedic.  "I guess you are right about the hallucinating. My grandmother died four years ago."  She laughed.  "If she were alive, he'd be right about the cod liver oil.  It was her miracle cure." 

The paramedic smiled back. "My grandmother was the same way.  Look, he's asleep for now.  We should be pulling in to the emergency room any minute.  Don't worry too much.  I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Thanks.  I guess now isn't a good time to tell him my nanny quit?"