Title: Checkered Past
Summary: Jack's sins catch up to him. Set between seasons 2 and 3.
Spoilers: through the first episode of season 3.
Disclaimer: Alias and associated characters obviously aren't mine. ABC and JJ Abrams hold that honour.
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Season 3; So I contacted the one person I believed I could trust, given the circumstances...your mother. At the time, she was number 6 on the CIA's most wanted list.(Jack)
Season 2; The death of a CIA agent draws unwanted attention and focus. When it happens, the safest recourse is to say nothing... ever. (Jack)
Season 1; I want you to stop. I hear your concerns and I will choose how to respond to them myself. You're a good agent, Jack, but lately, I find your methods reprehensible. If I hear of one more instance of you acting off the book, you're done. (Devlin)
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Jack Bristow sat in the same glass cage that had once housed his wife, listening to the buzzers sound and the bars lift out of the way of approaching footsteps. In the last few months of Irina's captivity, ever since India, he had spent nearly a cummulative three weeks locked inside here with her, discussing missions and brainstorming over chinese as they had done before he knew she was a KGB spy. That could be verified by video, prison visitor logs, and CIA witnesses. There was no disputing it. The prosecution had one particularly damning clip where he and Irina were laughing over some joke or memory. Hell, there were probably dozens of such instances in the security footage archives of this cell.
There was only one where they'd touched, where they had almost thought about kissing, but he had destroyed that tape long before now.
Dr. Barnett's sessions were being used against him as well. He'd long since stopped thinking of Irina as Laura, but Barnett had an audio tape of him slipping and calling her by his wife's name. He wasn't sure if the misconception would help or hinder his case. Laura wasn't number six on the CIA's most wanted list. Irina was. Not that it mattered. The cell tapes had him telling Irina that they were still married.
Even then, when he thought he had hated her, he'd made no efforts to even look into annulling the marriage. At the time, he'd rationalized the lapse as a reminder of the follies of trust. A masochistic desire rub salt into his failure. Jack Bristow had married a KGB spy. Was still married to a terrorist. He had thought of it as punishment for his sins. He believed he deserved it whenever Kendall looked at him with derision and said with his eyes, "You might think you know what's going on better than I do, but iyou/i were the one who married her."
At the time, he had never once thought it might prove expedient to use his marital status to avoid answering questions about her location. Since taking up residence in the cell he had once visited so frequently, he'd parroted the law that a man is not required to jeopardize his wife more times than he could count.
That, too, would be used against him.
"Jack." Jack looked up to see Director Devlin standing on the other side of the glass. He made no move to stand or otherwise acknowledge his visitor. The director sighed and leaned against the wall, assuming a falsely casual posture. This interview was anything but casual. "Jack, if you go to trial, you will be found guilty of being a traitor to this country."
Jack knew that. It wasn't entirely Irina's fault either. Devlin's voice carried with it the reminder of the many times Jack was warned about his rogue behaviour. And willfully disregarded it. "I was trying to help Sydney," he repeated his only defense, then and now. It made no more impact this time than it had the countless other times he delivered it.
Devlin sighed and shook his head. "Sydney's dead, Jack." Jack could tell that he believed Jack was suffering from some sort of mental breakdown. If their places were reversed, Jack knew he would have believed the same. He looked away, aware he had already lost.
"What would you have me do?" he asked, looking at the floor rather than the director. "My record is checkered at best. I married a KGB agent, spent six months in solitary under suspicion of being her accomplice, then I had three months in detox after two years of alcoholism. I worked for Sloane until I turned double, I murdered Hadlaki and stole government property. I set up the explosives in Madagascar to frame my wife, I let Irina escape in Panama, and now you have surveillance footage of me and my wife meeting in Egypt. All of this is a matter of irecord/i. Add in the rumours that my daughter's death has unhinged my mental balance, and -" Jack shook his head, then looked up to met Devlin's carefully closed expression. "I'm not a traitor, you know that. But all evidence points to the contrary. I'm not blind, I see that perfectly well."
"Plead guilty."
That sparked Jack out of his calm and he shot to his feet, glaring impending, if impossible, violence at Devlin through the cell's transparent wall. "I am not a traitor! Damnit, Ben,I thought we were friends once!"
"Then plead guilty to 'resisting authority', Jack." The muscles of Devlin's face twitched enough to give away a surpressed humourless smile. "God knows you commit that on a daily basis."
Jack pressed his lips together, a facial expression Jack knew Devlin could interpret either as anger or amusement. He wasn't sure which he was feeling himself. "What's the maximum sentence for a habitual offender of that?" His question's tone was as ambiguous as his expression.
"Indefinite solitary confinement."
Jack turned toward the the cell's 'window'. He'd been in solitary before. He had no desire to return.
"Jack."
Jack ignored him.
"You'll get the death penalty otherwise."
Jack stood very still and silent for a long time, his back to his visitor. "I'll think about it," he agreed quietly, already knowing he'd do it. As long as he wasn't dead, there was always a chance he'd be able to get out and find Sydney. There was no way he would be found innocent. He'd only avoided prison for the Madagascar incident because of Sydney's misinformation. Associating with the CIA's sixth most wanted was far worse in the NSC's opinion.
"I'll come for your decision tomorrow," Devlin promised. Jack knew by his tone that he already knew Jack's answer, too.
As the first set of bars began to raise, signalling Devlin's departure, Jack raised his voice to call after him, though he otherwise made no movement. "Don't bother. Set it up."
Summary: Jack's sins catch up to him. Set between seasons 2 and 3.
Spoilers: through the first episode of season 3.
Disclaimer: Alias and associated characters obviously aren't mine. ABC and JJ Abrams hold that honour.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Season 3; So I contacted the one person I believed I could trust, given the circumstances...your mother. At the time, she was number 6 on the CIA's most wanted list.(Jack)
Season 2; The death of a CIA agent draws unwanted attention and focus. When it happens, the safest recourse is to say nothing... ever. (Jack)
Season 1; I want you to stop. I hear your concerns and I will choose how to respond to them myself. You're a good agent, Jack, but lately, I find your methods reprehensible. If I hear of one more instance of you acting off the book, you're done. (Devlin)
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Jack Bristow sat in the same glass cage that had once housed his wife, listening to the buzzers sound and the bars lift out of the way of approaching footsteps. In the last few months of Irina's captivity, ever since India, he had spent nearly a cummulative three weeks locked inside here with her, discussing missions and brainstorming over chinese as they had done before he knew she was a KGB spy. That could be verified by video, prison visitor logs, and CIA witnesses. There was no disputing it. The prosecution had one particularly damning clip where he and Irina were laughing over some joke or memory. Hell, there were probably dozens of such instances in the security footage archives of this cell.
There was only one where they'd touched, where they had almost thought about kissing, but he had destroyed that tape long before now.
Dr. Barnett's sessions were being used against him as well. He'd long since stopped thinking of Irina as Laura, but Barnett had an audio tape of him slipping and calling her by his wife's name. He wasn't sure if the misconception would help or hinder his case. Laura wasn't number six on the CIA's most wanted list. Irina was. Not that it mattered. The cell tapes had him telling Irina that they were still married.
Even then, when he thought he had hated her, he'd made no efforts to even look into annulling the marriage. At the time, he'd rationalized the lapse as a reminder of the follies of trust. A masochistic desire rub salt into his failure. Jack Bristow had married a KGB spy. Was still married to a terrorist. He had thought of it as punishment for his sins. He believed he deserved it whenever Kendall looked at him with derision and said with his eyes, "You might think you know what's going on better than I do, but iyou/i were the one who married her."
At the time, he had never once thought it might prove expedient to use his marital status to avoid answering questions about her location. Since taking up residence in the cell he had once visited so frequently, he'd parroted the law that a man is not required to jeopardize his wife more times than he could count.
That, too, would be used against him.
"Jack." Jack looked up to see Director Devlin standing on the other side of the glass. He made no move to stand or otherwise acknowledge his visitor. The director sighed and leaned against the wall, assuming a falsely casual posture. This interview was anything but casual. "Jack, if you go to trial, you will be found guilty of being a traitor to this country."
Jack knew that. It wasn't entirely Irina's fault either. Devlin's voice carried with it the reminder of the many times Jack was warned about his rogue behaviour. And willfully disregarded it. "I was trying to help Sydney," he repeated his only defense, then and now. It made no more impact this time than it had the countless other times he delivered it.
Devlin sighed and shook his head. "Sydney's dead, Jack." Jack could tell that he believed Jack was suffering from some sort of mental breakdown. If their places were reversed, Jack knew he would have believed the same. He looked away, aware he had already lost.
"What would you have me do?" he asked, looking at the floor rather than the director. "My record is checkered at best. I married a KGB agent, spent six months in solitary under suspicion of being her accomplice, then I had three months in detox after two years of alcoholism. I worked for Sloane until I turned double, I murdered Hadlaki and stole government property. I set up the explosives in Madagascar to frame my wife, I let Irina escape in Panama, and now you have surveillance footage of me and my wife meeting in Egypt. All of this is a matter of irecord/i. Add in the rumours that my daughter's death has unhinged my mental balance, and -" Jack shook his head, then looked up to met Devlin's carefully closed expression. "I'm not a traitor, you know that. But all evidence points to the contrary. I'm not blind, I see that perfectly well."
"Plead guilty."
That sparked Jack out of his calm and he shot to his feet, glaring impending, if impossible, violence at Devlin through the cell's transparent wall. "I am not a traitor! Damnit, Ben,I thought we were friends once!"
"Then plead guilty to 'resisting authority', Jack." The muscles of Devlin's face twitched enough to give away a surpressed humourless smile. "God knows you commit that on a daily basis."
Jack pressed his lips together, a facial expression Jack knew Devlin could interpret either as anger or amusement. He wasn't sure which he was feeling himself. "What's the maximum sentence for a habitual offender of that?" His question's tone was as ambiguous as his expression.
"Indefinite solitary confinement."
Jack turned toward the the cell's 'window'. He'd been in solitary before. He had no desire to return.
"Jack."
Jack ignored him.
"You'll get the death penalty otherwise."
Jack stood very still and silent for a long time, his back to his visitor. "I'll think about it," he agreed quietly, already knowing he'd do it. As long as he wasn't dead, there was always a chance he'd be able to get out and find Sydney. There was no way he would be found innocent. He'd only avoided prison for the Madagascar incident because of Sydney's misinformation. Associating with the CIA's sixth most wanted was far worse in the NSC's opinion.
"I'll come for your decision tomorrow," Devlin promised. Jack knew by his tone that he already knew Jack's answer, too.
As the first set of bars began to raise, signalling Devlin's departure, Jack raised his voice to call after him, though he otherwise made no movement. "Don't bother. Set it up."