Sydney checked on Will, saw to it that Vaughn was settled as comfortably as
possible near the front of the plane, and returned to where Dixon and her
father sat.
"Dixon told me he found you handcuffed, but unhurt in the warehouse with only a single guard at the door. Given enough time, you could have freed yourself," Jack said. "What happened after the guards dragged you away?"
"I woke up in a room, and Khasinau came in. He tried to feed me soup. He was gentle and somewhat sad," Sydney mused. "He's not the man you think he is."
Dixon and Jack exchanged incredulous glances.
"Are you sure he didn't drug you?" Dixon asked skeptically. "What was the point of luring you to Taipei, if he wasn't going to interrogate you? That sounds nothing like the profile we have of 'The Man.' Just look at what Sark did to Will, presumably on orders from 'The Man' himself."
Sydney shuddered. It made her sick to think of what Will had suffered. "But that's what I am trying to tell you. Khasinau isn't 'The Man.'"
"Then who is?" Jack burst out impatiently.
Sydney looked at her father uncertainly. " 'The Man' isn't a man at all," she said, and her voice quivered. " 'The Man' is a woman."
Jack looked at his daughter's anguished eyes, and his own eyes grew wide.
"Laura," he breathed.
Sydney nodded, swallowing back her tears.
Now it was Jack's turn to shake his head in disbelief. Slowly, his features hardened, taking on a stony mask of suppressed anger. "Did she hurt you in any way?"
Sydney looked at her father helplessly. "Just seeing her hurt me. I don't know what I expected. One moment she seemed exactly like the woman I remembered, tender, loving; the next she turned into this impossibly cold, cruel stranger. Seeing that hurt worse than if she had shot me."
Tears slipped down her face, and before she could wipe them away, Jack grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look straight into his eyes. "What did she say to you?" he asked her agitatedly. "What did she tell you?"
Jack did not interrupt once, as Sydney recounted her entire conversation with her mother. He hung on every word she said, his face taking on a more and more haunted look with each revelation.
Dixon tactfully withdrew, leaving Sydney alone with her father. Jack, however, had retreated into himself. Only his rapid breathing belied his almost eerie, outward calm. All she had wanted after her mother's visit was to be comforted by someone who loved her. Someone strong enough to reassure her that everything she worked for hadn't been a lie. Subsequent events-- her reunion with Vaughn, the escape from the warehouse, and her concern for Will and Dixon--had made it impossible for her to dwell on her conversation with her mother. She could only guess what her father was thinking now.
"Dad?" Sydney said tentatively. "Dad?" she said more loudly, when he continued to stare past her.
Jack's eyes slowly came back to focus on his daughter, and bit by bit his stony façade cracked. Loud, choked sobs came from deep within this seemingly stoic man, and Sydney threw her arms around his neck. Jack clung to her, and Sydney felt the sobs shudder through him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly. "I was a fool. Such a fool. I regret everything about my relationship with that woman--everything except you. If she had hurt you, God help me--"
After a time--neither father nor daughter could say how long--Jack wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, and turned away from his daughter. Without another word, he moved to the back of the plane. Sydney gazed after him, looking at the father she was getting to know so much later in life than she would have liked. She didn't know what sort of confrontations with Irina the future held, she only knew she and her father would face them together.
"Dixon told me he found you handcuffed, but unhurt in the warehouse with only a single guard at the door. Given enough time, you could have freed yourself," Jack said. "What happened after the guards dragged you away?"
"I woke up in a room, and Khasinau came in. He tried to feed me soup. He was gentle and somewhat sad," Sydney mused. "He's not the man you think he is."
Dixon and Jack exchanged incredulous glances.
"Are you sure he didn't drug you?" Dixon asked skeptically. "What was the point of luring you to Taipei, if he wasn't going to interrogate you? That sounds nothing like the profile we have of 'The Man.' Just look at what Sark did to Will, presumably on orders from 'The Man' himself."
Sydney shuddered. It made her sick to think of what Will had suffered. "But that's what I am trying to tell you. Khasinau isn't 'The Man.'"
"Then who is?" Jack burst out impatiently.
Sydney looked at her father uncertainly. " 'The Man' isn't a man at all," she said, and her voice quivered. " 'The Man' is a woman."
Jack looked at his daughter's anguished eyes, and his own eyes grew wide.
"Laura," he breathed.
Sydney nodded, swallowing back her tears.
Now it was Jack's turn to shake his head in disbelief. Slowly, his features hardened, taking on a stony mask of suppressed anger. "Did she hurt you in any way?"
Sydney looked at her father helplessly. "Just seeing her hurt me. I don't know what I expected. One moment she seemed exactly like the woman I remembered, tender, loving; the next she turned into this impossibly cold, cruel stranger. Seeing that hurt worse than if she had shot me."
Tears slipped down her face, and before she could wipe them away, Jack grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look straight into his eyes. "What did she say to you?" he asked her agitatedly. "What did she tell you?"
Jack did not interrupt once, as Sydney recounted her entire conversation with her mother. He hung on every word she said, his face taking on a more and more haunted look with each revelation.
Dixon tactfully withdrew, leaving Sydney alone with her father. Jack, however, had retreated into himself. Only his rapid breathing belied his almost eerie, outward calm. All she had wanted after her mother's visit was to be comforted by someone who loved her. Someone strong enough to reassure her that everything she worked for hadn't been a lie. Subsequent events-- her reunion with Vaughn, the escape from the warehouse, and her concern for Will and Dixon--had made it impossible for her to dwell on her conversation with her mother. She could only guess what her father was thinking now.
"Dad?" Sydney said tentatively. "Dad?" she said more loudly, when he continued to stare past her.
Jack's eyes slowly came back to focus on his daughter, and bit by bit his stony façade cracked. Loud, choked sobs came from deep within this seemingly stoic man, and Sydney threw her arms around his neck. Jack clung to her, and Sydney felt the sobs shudder through him.
"I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly. "I was a fool. Such a fool. I regret everything about my relationship with that woman--everything except you. If she had hurt you, God help me--"
After a time--neither father nor daughter could say how long--Jack wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, and turned away from his daughter. Without another word, he moved to the back of the plane. Sydney gazed after him, looking at the father she was getting to know so much later in life than she would have liked. She didn't know what sort of confrontations with Irina the future held, she only knew she and her father would face them together.