Jack threw back the covers and stumbled to his bathroom.  He splashed the hot water on his face, but it did little to ease the nightmares. There were too many memories to be so easily washed away.  Sydney remembered their trip to Disney with affection and for that he was glad.  His own memories were far more mixed.  Spending time with his daughter after their long separation had been among the happiest times of his life, but the newly borne specter of his traitorous wife had cast a pall over his joy.

He checked the clock by his bed.  Two-thirty.  Giving the bed a baleful look, he headed for his study.  There had been enough sleepless nights in his past for him to know when not to fight it.  The study had been his place of refuge, his sanctuary against the despair.  That and the bottles of whiskey he downed to dull the ache.

Alcohol had not played an important role in his life with Laura. The occasional social drink and wine with dinner had been the extent of his habit.  It wasn't until after the trip to Disney that he'd discovered its mind numbing benefits. 

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me.  Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me." Sydney's childish voice warbled the "Pirates of the Caribbean" refrain as she worked on the Mickey Mouse puzzle he had bought her earlier that day.

Jack laughed and ruffled his daughters' hair.  "Okay, Sydney, it's time for your bath and then it's off to bed."

"No Daddy, pirates don't go to bed.  They get to stay up and play all night."  Sydney looked up at her father and sang again,  "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me."

"I'm the head pirate and what I sez goes, matey. Otherwise, it's the plank for you." He gave his best Long John Silver imitation.

"Oh," she giggled. "You are funny, Daddy."

Jack ran the water and let Sydney splash around for a while, then he washed her hair and prepared her for bed.  "I had fun today, Daddy.  I love you." she murmured sleepily.  He watched her doze off into a gentle slumber then made his own nighttime preparations.  There was a knock on the door just as he finished his shower. Reaching for his robe, he opened the door slightly, surprised to see Sissy waiting on the other side. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, Jack, but I'm having trouble with the zipper of this dress.  Do you think you could come over for a minute and help me. My son is asleep in the other room and I just didn't want to wake him."

He recognized the invitation for what it was and felt momentarily tempted.  Sydney turned restlessly in her sleep, reminding him of his priorities.  "Turn around.  I can unzip it from here."

"Shouldn't I at least come in?"  She appeared shocked that he was turning down her offer.

Jack shook his head no.  "My daughter and I are sharing this room.  I'd rather not have her waking and seeing you in here." He gave her an apologetic smile, enjoying Sissy's discomfiture.  "It won't take me a minute."

She glared at him and walked angrily back to her room.  Jack laughed to himself. The CIA obviously thought him an idiot. Of course they did, he thought bitterly.  He had been duped for ten years and even Laura's death had left him none the wiser

Angrily, he pulled back the bed sheets and slipped between the covers.  The bed was comfortable but sleep evaded him.  He didn't want to sleep. He hadn't wanted to sleep in months.  There were too many dreams he wanted to avoid.  So, instead, he stared at the blank television screen. Minutes passed into hours when Sydney began to stir restlessly.  He strained to hear her disjointed mutterings.

"Die.  No, Mommy.  Come back.  Love you.  Daddy. No.  Don't go away, Daddy."  Her thrashing got stronger and he could see she was crying.  He lifted her up from her bed and held her in his arms, singing a soft lullaby to soothe her back to sleep.  When she finally calmed down, he moved to put her back in her bed, but she tightened her arms around him and he didn't have the heart to let go.

They stayed in Orlando for a week and every night followed the same routine.  He dreaded their return to Los Angeles. It meant the start of his new assignment. He had to pretend to go rogue, to allow himself to be recruited by a newly formed mercenary group. It was a dangerous job and there were no guarantees he'd live out the year.  He watched his daughter as she slept on their flight home and knew what he had to do. She had experienced far too much trauma for one so young and he wouldn't, couldn't let her go through it again. 

He went back to work the next day. He hated what he had to do, but felt helpless against his own guilt. Acting on a tip, his handler directed him to a local bar. There he found himself pleasantly drunk and for the first night in forever he slept soundly through the night. He went there again the next night and for consecutive nights after, each night consuming a little more of the amber liquid.  Then he found himself helpless once more, this time against the lure of forgetfulness.

Jack listened as the clock in the hall struck three.  The phone stood silent.  He swallowed his disappointment and poured a healthy shot of White Lightning into a tumbler. 

When he had been a young agent, he often brought his work home, usually spreading his paper over the kitchen table.  Eventually they were able to afford a house with a study and he and Laura spent many hours shopping for the perfect desk.  They found one made of oak, solid and strong, one that would last a lifetime - like him, Laura had said.  He had kept his most sensitive projects locked in the drawers, where they were safe he had thought.  He had learned a valuable lesson long ago.

Now the desk stood almost empty, the only addition was a new state of the art computer.  Safely stored inside were Sydney's old school reports, the birthday and Father's Day cards the nannies had made her write, a drawing she'd made on their return from their Disney trip... and the photograph.  It was the only one of Laura he'd kept. The drawer he stored it in had become well worn.  Nightly he had pulled it from its resting place, offering up a toast to her brilliance.

Gently he slid the drawer open and pulled out the silver frame.  She was beautiful, as she still was, her face soft with youth.  Her eyes were wide and bright, but it was her smile that drew him in.  There was a promise in the quirk of the lips; an invitation.  It was a look he'd often seen when she wanted to make love. "The photographer told me to think about something special," she had told him when he'd unwrapped the gift. "I bet you can't guess what it was." Then she smiled that same smile and he was lost in her arms.

She'd given him that same look in their hotel room in Panama. He had been just as powerless against it as he'd always been.  Did she look at other men in that way? He took a sip of the whiskey, not wanting his thoughts go in that direction.  Three-thirty.  He sighed and took another swallow, downing the remaining liquid. As he set the glass down, his hand bumped the computer mouse bringing the monitor out of it's slumber. 

A large icon flashed, notifying him of new e-mail.  Probably spam inviting him to enlarge various parts of his body. He clicked on the mail icon and as suspected, his 'secure' e-mail account had three requests;  one for penile enhancement ...at least that was one area he didn't have to be concerned about, he mused wryly … and another was from 'Candi' inviting him to come and watch. He deleted the first two and opened the third.  This one offered him the vacation of a lifetime.  He and his wife would spend two romantic weeks touring the Tuscan countryside, all for the low, low price of $4,700.  Just as he moved the mouse over the delete button, he noticed the name of the company.  ARILY, Unlimited.  The e-mail had arrived in his box at 3 am. Irina.

He was desperately trying to trust her.  He wanted to trust her, to believe she loved him, to believe what she had written on the back of that photograph. It had taunted him all those years ago.  Always remember I love you, she had written. He hoped now that it had been the truth.

The e-mail was a clue, that much was obvious.  But was it a trap, just like the one that had captured his sister?  He didn't want to believe it, but he had to be prepared.  Twenty years could not be so easily forgotten.

Jack made his way back to his bed.  The buzz from the whiskey finally took hold and he slept.