A/N:  We interrupt this broadcast for some plot.  The pace begins to pick up at this point.  In the interests of full disclosure – this fic is 40 chapters long.

***********

Chapter 18

His dinner sitting next to him half-eaten, Jack moodily perched at his kitchen counter and repeatedly played the surveillance tape in slow motion.  Frame by frame he searched for clues.  On Lazarey.  On Sydney.  In the room.  Nothing.  He pushed the laptop away in frustration, rubbing his temples.  There had to be something there.  They couldn't be at a dead end. 

Wearily, he reached over and hit play again, forgetting to slow it down.  Watched Sydney walk into the room.  Watched Lazarey greet her.  Watched – he froze -  what had Lazarey said?  Jack played it several more times and gave up, defeated.  Russian lip reading was not a skill he possessed.  He'd need some help.  Carefully he isolated the portion of the video with Lazarey's mouth, made a disk, and went to visit a specialist who owed him a favor.

**

Jack stared at the piece of paper and felt the blood drain from his face.  Clearing his throat, he looked up.  "You're sure?  There can be no mistake?"

"It's a pretty good angle.  I'm virtually positive."

Jack reread the slip of paper and felt sick.  "Julia, it's good to see you again."

Julia.  Julia Thorne.  It wasn't possible.  No one knew that name.  Jack had many secrets.  But this one he would have gone to his grave with.  Sydney's Project Christmas code name.  Julia Thorne.

"Sydney?" Jack called up the stairs.

"Yes, Daddy?" came the young voice.

"Time to play that game again, sweetheart."

"Coming!"  Jack watched as his 6-year-old daughter skipped down the stairs and threw herself into his arms. 

"I'm so glad you're home again, Daddy.  Please promise you won't leave me again."

"I promise," he said, fear clutching his heart.  Would the KGB come for her?  "Sit down in the chair, pumpkin."

Sydney giggled as she climbed into the chair.  "Daddy, I'm not a pumpkin."

"Are you sure?  Now close your eyes and count backwards from 25."

"25. . . 24. . . 23. . . . . . . . 3. . . 2. . . 1. . . ."

Jack quietly spoke a phrase, and waited.  Sydney's eyes opened.

"Julia?  Are you ready to do some exercises?"

A decision made in fear.  Fear that the KGB would come for Sydney.  She was, after all, half theirs.  But if they took her, he could always reclaim her. 

Someone else had reclaimed her.  But who?  And how?  And. . . why?

Devastated, he had no memory of driving home.  How much had that mistake cost Sydney?  Two years of her life in someone else's control. Heaven knows what she'd done, what she'd have to live with.  And it had cost her Vaughn.  Would cost him his second chance.  She'd never trust him again when she found out. . .

. . . if she found out, said a small voice.

**

"There. . . you see that?"  Sydney pointed at the screen of her father's laptop.  They were sitting together in his apartment several days later.

"No."

Sydney backed up the video slowly, replaying the section before she slit Lazarey's throat.  "What do you mean? L. . . look there. . . he's saying. . . he's saying "Jule. . . or Julie. . . "

"He could be saying any number of things," said Jack hurriedly, trying to distract her.  "Sydney, I have already subjected this video to the most intense technological scrutiny available to the CIA."

"Maybe Julia. . . ," said Sydney whispering to herself.
"If you want me to order a reanalysis, fine, but you have to stop punishing yourself."

"There's go to be something in there that can lead us to. . . "
Jack slammed down the lid of the laptop.  "Sydney, no good will come from doing this."

"I committed a murder I have no memory of; this isn't about punishment!"

"I understand this haunts you, but you have to stop. . . "

**

Jack scanned the airline records in front of him, trying to make sense of what he had found.  Julia Thorne – Sydney – had been booked on a flight to LA the day he was arrested.  Frowning, he sketched the timeline on the pad to his left.  She had murdered Lazarey the morning of the 26th; boarded a plane the morning of the 27th; been scheduled to arrive in LA the 27th at 12:35 pm.  He'd been arrested the 27th at 1:30pm.

His hand shook.  She'd been flying to see him.  He'd been hours, maybe minutes, from meeting with the daughter he'd buried the year before.  Had Sloane known?  Known that Sydney was coming to him for help?  Was *that* what had driven the timing of his arrest?

Jack leaned back in his chair.  Only two people would be able to answer that question.

**

"Okay, Sydney, the test is over." 

Sydney removed the two disks that were covering her eyes and looked at her father questioningly.

"If you were still under the influence of any valid brainwashing technique, I'd know it. As for your memory loss, some forms of torture, electroconvulsive shock therapy for example, can cause amnesia."

"So you think I was tortured?"

"Possibly," said Jack demurring.  "We may never know."

Sydney rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to get warm.  "Dad, I have to know.  Maybe I should let the NSC try to recover my memories."

Jack took her hand in hers.  "Trust me, Sydney, that's not the answer.  And sometimes, sweetheart, not knowing can be a gift."

**

Numbly Jack packed up the testing equipment.  Locked out.  He'd hypnotized her to access her Project Christmas memories, and he'd been locked out.  Someone had changed the trigger phrase; without it, Jack had no control.  Sydney could be activated to Julia at any time.  And he wouldn't be able to stop it.

Who could have done this?  The list of suspects was small, indeed.  Headed by the man who'd put him away as soon as he'd discovered his daughter was alive.

Sloane.