Sydney rubbed her temples. The silent camera shots of her father locked up in the cell were disconcerting.  He had been afforded very little privacy and apparently very little time away from his confinement area.  She'd already scanned through three weeks of solitary shots, watching her father's mental condition slowly spiral downward. The next file was another interrogation session. Week fourteen, according to the label. She took a deep breath and opened the file.

The camera panned the room, stopping briefly to focus on Agent Hamilton's face, then moved once more until it was repositioned with a full view of the room.

"You've got the video all set, Bob?"

"Yeah. I'm still working the kinks out of this remote control.  It's pretty cool. No wires. I can operate from anywhere in the room." Bob nodded to the two syringes and liquid vials set near the table. "What's with all the medical supplies?"

"Sodium Pentathol. We're going to try a little 'truth serum'.

Bob frowned at his partner. "Isn't that a bit dangerous? If you get the wrong dosage…"

"Nah, I've used it a few times before. Don't worry about it. The boys in Washington don't think we are working fast enough. I got their 'suggested course of action' notice yesterday."

"I can't believe you are allowing this, Ryan. Those psych guys are in an ivory tower. They have no clue on what works in the field. And you and I know that Sodium Pentathol is just about useless for getting at the truth. The best you're going to get is incoherent babbling."

"Yeah, I know the risks. Don't worry, there isn't enough in there to cause death."

The screen cut off briefly then once more came into focus, this time centering on Jack Bristows' face.

"So, you colluded with her, Agent Bristow.  Isn't that right?  I've read your case file.  You're a smart man.  Your IQ is practically off the charts.  You had to know what she was doing."

"No"

"Even someone with half your IQ should have seen through her.  And you want me to believe you didn't know?"

"No."

"No, what, Agent Bristow?"

"I didn't know," he replied tersely

"By your own admission, you chose the bookstore.  You set up the drops.  They must have recruited you pretty early on.  What did they offer you, Agent Bristow?  What was so enticing that it would lead you to betray your country? Was it money? Do you have an account hidden away in Switzerland?  Or was it sex?  She was good in bed, wasn't she?  Did they threaten to take her away if you didn't co-operate?"

"No."

"So what did they offer?"

"They didn't offer anything."

"So you admit they approached you?"

"No, dammit!  No one approached me.  I would never betray my country.  Never," Jack repeated vehemently.

"Then you want us to believe she fooled you for ten years, Agent Bristow?  Nobody's that good.  You were her target, her mark. She had to have slipped up somewhere and someone with your brains never saw it?"  Hamilton moved in closer, his face mere inches from Jack's.

"I thought she loved me."

"You thought she loved you?" Hamilton sneered. "But now you know the truth.  She never loved you.  You were her prey.  The question is, did she recruit you or were you truly that oblivious?  No answer, Agent Bristow?" 

Jack closed his eyes and took a hard swallow.

"Tell us about the bookstore.  You were on your honeymoon. The sex is great. You can't get enough of her. Then your bride confesses she's an agent for the KGB.  You don't know what to do.  You want her. You lust after her. She tells you she's been ordered to leave you, but she won't have to if you help her pass on information.  It's an offer you can't resist."

"NO."

"You told us you chose the bookstore, Agent Bristow. You told us you set up the book drop, Agent Bristow.  What other conclusion am I left to draw?"

"Laura chose the bookstore." Jack admitted.

"That isn't what you've been telling us, Agent Bristow.  Why should I believe you now?"

"Because it's the truth."

"You told us you were telling the truth before."

"I told you that it was the truth that it was my idea to send the books."

"That alone is pretty damning."

"Yes, I know.  But it's the truth. I thought I was being romantic," Jack confessed bitterly.

"Romantic, Agent Bristow?" Hamilton scoffed. "I've read your psych evaluation.  It says you are highly analytical, objective, remote ... detached. There is nothing in there to even remotely suggest romance."

Jack looked up at Hamilton, his face now schooled against emotional expression. "How much longer is this going to take?  You boys must not be very good at your job.  I've been here three months. You don't have anything, do you?  If you did, I'd be in front of a judge pleading for my life."

"Well, Agent Bristow, that's the beauty of the CIA.  We can hold you here as long as we like.  Employee evaluations.  They are such a killer these days." Hamilton reached over to the tray next to Jack and picked up a syringe.

Jack frowned up at him.  "What are you doing?"

"Oh nothing, Bristow." Hamilton smiled benignly.  "Just a little sedative. I understand you're having a little trouble sleeping.  This should help."  Staunton placed a tourniquet around Jack's upper arm as Hamilton expertly slipped the needle under Jack's skin.  The drug took effect quickly as Jack relaxed back against the chair.

"Okay, turn off the camera, Bob."

"They're off."

Hamilton gazed up at the camera.  Frowning, he turned to Staunton. "It looks like they are still running," he said suspiciously.

"No, it's off. They tech guy says that the light has to stay on for a while to cool off."

"How long?"

"I don't know" Staunton sighed.  "Look, I am not the tech guy.  I just learned how to use the damn thing today.  It's off.  I followed all the instructions very carefully."

"Very well. He's ready for the next part and I don't want there to be a record of this."

"That's not protocol."

"No, it isn't. I have additional orders and they want this strictly off the record." Hamilton turned to Jack and checked his pulse.  "He's ready. Agent Bristow, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"You love your country, don't you."

"Love my country, love my wife, love my daughter." Jack murmured incoherently.

"Yes, well, your wife has caused great damage to your country and your daughter."

"Laura?  No, she wouldn't do that."

"Yes, Jack. She did.  Many lives were lost because of her.  Many of your friends died because of her.  Your daughter is very sad because of her."

"Sydney. Sad."

"She's having nightmares.  Because of Laura. If you hadn't married Laura, none of this would have happened. It's your fault, Jack."

"My fault."

"Yes.  And now you have to make it up to your country.  To your daughter."

"My fault?"

"Yes, Jack.  You are the reason all those missions failed.  You are the reason all those men died out on the field.  They will never get to see their sons or daughters again.  But you. You get to see Sydney.  You get to see your daughter.  They will never get to kiss their babies goodnight.  No more hugs and kisses. You get to hold your daughter.  That isn't very fair, is it? You owe it to them, Jack."

"Owe."

"He's drifting out of consciousness, Hamilton. You need to give him a stimulant."

"Not just yet." He slapped Jack on the face in an effort to bring him back into focus. "Jack, listen to me very carefu..." Staunton pulled Hamilton away.

"He's out of it.  You need to stop.  Now." Staunton grabbed a second syringe off the table and shot it into Jack's arm. The shot revived him slightly and Jack began to sing softly.

"I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're near me ..." The words dropped off as Jack lost consciousness again.

Hamilton laughed. "I guess he's been locked up a little too long.  He's singing a song about sex."

Staunton looked at Hamilton impassively then strode to the door.  "Guard? You can take Agent Bristow back to his cell, now." He waited until Jack was removed then confronted Hamilton.

"What was that all about?" Staunton hissed angrily. "You and I both know that Jack Bristow is innocent in his wife's espionage."

"Sodium Pentathol has much better uses than determining the truth. The big boys have far more important plans for Agent Bristow and it's imperative that we have his unquestioning loyalty." He turned to Staunton. "And yours," Hamilton added with deadly softness.

Sydney paused the video, shocked at what she had just witnessed. Her father had gone through six months of mental torture so they could indoctrinate him for ... for what?  To infiltrate SD-6?  Her mother may have been culpable for many things, but was the CIA any better?

She picked up her mother's photograph and placed it on the desk in front of her. Her mother.  Her father's wife. Laura.  She traced her finger lightly over the frame.  There was no question her father had loved deeply.  Had her mother loved him back with that same intensity? The woman on the family videos acted like someone deeply in love.  She hoped so. Her aunt Jane's life was depending on it.

She moved back against the chair and stretched lightly, her mind reviewing Hamilton's indoctrination.  She took a deep breath then, slowly, evenly; she let it out. You get to hold your daughter. That isn't very fair, is it? The Sodium Pentathol had relaxed her father, allowing the power of suggestion to do what torture could not. Hamilton's efforts were intended to make her father feel guilty enough to be a sacrificial lamb in his next mission.  Had he also driven the first wedge between father and daughter?  Had her Dad pushed her away out of a sense of guilt at being alive when nameless others had died, possibly because of the intel her mother had stolen?

She glanced back at the screen and studied the features of the two agents. The CIA database would undoubtedly have information on the two men.  She would have to do a little investigation on them when she returned. Staunton had left the video running.  Interesting. 

The next file on the computer was a visit by her aunt to her father. They were in a small room with no windows.  Her father was chained and cuffed, but otherwise able to move freely.

"They've threatened to take away my parental rights, Jane."

"They can't do that, can they?" Jane winced at the clang of the chains as her brother paced.

"They're from the government.  They can do any damn thing they want. You have to do something.  Adopt her.  I'll sign the papers."

"Jack, I've hired a lawyer."

"I can't afford a lawyer.  You know that Jane."

"He's doing the work pro bono."

"You're paying him, aren't you?  I can't let you do that.  This is my mess.  I'm sorry you had to be dragged into it."

"Jack, you're my brother.  I should be here for you. The lawyer is a friend of mine.  When I told him how long you've been held without any charges, he couldn't believe it. He wants to help you."

"You told him?  Jane, you could get into serious trouble..."

"No, I can't.  He's our attorney.  You still have rights, Jack, and these people are withholding them from you." Jane reached for her brothers' hand.  "You believe them now, don't you?  That Laura was a spy?"

"Yes. I'm an idiot and a fool.  Three cheers for Jack."

"Don't, Jack. She was good.  She fooled everyone, not just you."

"She didn't fool you."

"Yes, she did, Jack. I may not have liked her, but I would have testified in court that she loved you. Who knows, maybe she really did love you."

Jack gave a harsh laugh. "Nice try.  No they are right. I was a fool to believe someone like her could actually love me."  He shuffled to the chair by the table and sat down.  "Tell your friend I want to get this over with.  One way or the other."

Jane gasped.  "Jack, I will not have you thinking that way.  You've done nothing wrong." She bent down and kissed her brother on the cheek. "I'm a reporter.  I'm good at digging.  You'll be released, Jack.  You can take my word on that."

A knock on the door alerted them that their time was over.  As Jane moved to leave, Jack grabbed her hand. "Don't forget the papers, Jane.  I need to know Sydney will be cared for.  I know it's hard for you, but if you give her chance, you'll love her as much as I do."

"Don't be silly, Jack.  You'll be out soon and you can take care of her yourself."

"Jane..." She gave her brother another peck on the cheek and left the room.

A wall phone rang and the guard motioned for Jack to pick it up.

"Hello?" Jack said hesitantly.

"Agent Bristow?  Agent Staunton has arranged for you to talk to your daughter.  You need to hang up this phone and pick up when it rings again."

"Thank you." He waited by the phone, eagerly grabbing it on the first ring.  "Sydney?  Is that you, sweetheart?"

"Of course it is, Daddy," she answered with six-year-old logic.  "I've been waiting and waiting for you to call me.  Did you get my letter?"

"Yes, I did. I'm so proud of you. When I get home ..." Jack's voice cracked. "When I get home, we'll celebrate all those A's, okay?" 

"Daddy, you don't sound too good."

"I've been sick, sweetheart. That's why I can't come home just yet."

"Are you going to die?" Hearing the panic in his daughters' voice, Jack crumpled against the wall.

"Sydney.."

"I don't want you to die, Daddy.  Please come home.  I'll make you better.  I promise."

"I can't..."

"I'll be extra good," Sydney added anxiously.

"I want to come home, sweetheart, more than anything in the world."

"I really, really, really, miss you. Please come home, Daddy. You don't have to bring me a puppy."

"Sydney ... if anything happens and Daddy can't come home ... Aunty Jane will take care of you."

"No, Daddy.  Don't want Aunty Jane. I want you."

The guard came in and pointed at his watch. Jack grasped the phone tighter.  "Sydney, I have to go now. They need me to get back to work.  I love you, sweetheart."  Then softly.  "Goodbye, baby."

"No, Daddy. Nooooo." 

The tears that had been threatening Sydney all morning finally fell unchecked down her cheeks. That goodbye had sounded so ... final.