BARCELONA
Sydney strides into the park and sees her father seated on a bench next to a large weeping willow. She reaches him, and instead of sitting beside him, she merely stands there.
Jack immediately realizes she's discovered him. "Sydney, there are a few things we need to talk about, and this place is the most private I could find." He had whispered the name of the street and city into Sydney's hair when they had first greeted each other.
Sydney can hardly keep herself from tears. "Dad," she says, a gasp caught in her throat, "I don't know whether to thank you right now or kill you."
Jack watches her fragile struggle with an unreadable expression. Finally he says, "Sydney, I know. What I did was foolish, selfish, and far too risky, and there were a thousand other ways I could have done what I have done . . . but Sydney, I had no idea before I contacted your mother. I didn't know if you were dead, or alive, or hurt . . . When I came to see your mother, she asked that I take steps to release Allison Doren from custody. And I told her I would, and I lived up to it."
Sydney stares at him, hard. "She killed my best friends. And you think that you can-"
"She won't be out for long."
Sydney stops in mid-sentence.
Jack continues. "I'm taking steps, to insure that that woman will be either dead or in solitary by the end of the month."
She sighs and turns her head away for a second. Then she lets it out. "What would happen if we just went back to the CIA? You haven't even told me-"
"Will's alive."
Stunned, she seems stuck between a smile and more tears. "Will . . . how is that even . . ."
"And Vaughn is no longer with the CIA."
She is silent again.
It's an odd silence, Jack thinks, watching her closely. Not the reaction he would've expected – at all. Then again, he isn't sure what to expect from his daughter anymore.
He finally breaks it by saying, "We can't go back to the CIA. They seem to have caught on to the fact that it was me who helped Doren, another indication of my thoughtlessness, and everyone there believes you to be dead. If you go back, they may suspect you of being in collaboration with me, and Sydney, that could mean the end of both of us. You can't go back.
"I may not see you for a long time. I'll be out, freelancing. Working with your mother. She's decided that Sark will have a stronger role in the organization now."
She nods slightly.
"Sydney, I believe you to be the one in the Prophecy." He despises himself for bringing on the vulnerability in her eyes. "And I know, that by killing Arvin Sloane, you can fulfill it, and then, Sydney, you will be out. You'll be free. Just think about it. Peace."
Now she seems thoughtful, and he can begin to see, gradually, her old resolve building up inside her. Good girl, Sydney, he thinks.
He rises. Gently, he runs a hand through her hair, and she gives him a small smile.
As he walks away, he doesn't look back.
Then it hits him. Sark. It was Sark.
He can't quite believe himself at first. Sydney detested Sark. He was the opposite of everything she believed in, everything she wanted.
And yet, her silence. Unexplainable any other way.
It is so incredible. But the more he reflects on it, the less incredible it seems.
With his hands on the wheel of the car, he sighs. A quick, short sigh.
He realizes that he will never fully know his daughter.
