A/N

Hey everyone, hope you like this chapter. It's really really long, I just couldn't break it up anywhere, hope you're not disapointed! Please Review!!

Redemption

Chapter 22

His head ached.

He popped a few more aspirin hoping to dull the pain but it was self inflicted; self inflicted pain was never easily dulled. Scotch would do that to you. He hadn't really slept; hadn't eaten; just sat in the darkened living room the night before nursing a bottle of scotch and staring at the birth certificate as if there was a chance it might have changed since he last read the three words. He'd sat there until he passed out, his fingers curled around the glass of scotch that was his only company, and the birth certificate, which never left his fingertips.

Not that you'd know that now of course.

Jack Bristow was impeccably dressed as always. He sat at his desk several files open but he couldn't read them, he'd already found the answer he was looking for and the proof was burning a hole in his pocket. The question was why. Why had Irina kept it a secret for so many years? She'd had plenty of opportunity to tell him but then again maybe she had wanted to but something held her back.

The night in Panama before her escape, he'd sensed that there was something she'd wanted to tell him, but she didn't, something held her back. He wondered if it had been about Kathryn, hoped it had been about Kathryn but why now. What had made her decide that now was the time to tell him about his daughter?

His daughter.

He wasn't sure he could get used to saying those words, thinking about Kathryn.

He didn't know how he'd be able to tell her the truth. She wouldn't take it well. He knew how she'd react. Denial, disbelief, she'd lash out, shed a few tears of anger and frustration and then shut down; flick that switch and emotionally detach herself. The denial, disbelief, tears—just how Sydney would react. But then she would shut down, grow cold emotionless, detached, just like her mother… and as hard as it was to admit it, just like her father.

How would he tell this child that the man she adamantly despised was her flesh and blood. That was his first mistake. Don't treat her like a child a voice inside his head screamed at him. She wasn't a child. She'd stopped being a child the day her mother died. She'd grown up far too soon, far too fast in a world where she was lost. The day of her regression therapy when they'd all learned the hell she grown up in he'd wanted to kill anyone who had ever hurt her. He'd wanted to tear them limb from limb, but who wouldn't want to. He'd reacted like anyone would, like any parent would. Everyone in that room had wanted too strangle those who had harmed her, even Robert Lindsey. Listening to her screams of anguish, her cries, her whimpers had only manifested these feelings and he'd slipped his hands inside his pockets to keep them from shaking in anger.

That night, listening to her nightmares, her screams her cries, his feelings had changed. No longer did he want to simply murder the people responsible for her pain and suffering particularly a certain 'Daddy Caldwell' he wanted to torture them. Slow painful torture and to show them her pictures, the video footage, her eyes, to show them what they'd done to this innocent little girl. They'd taken away her innocence, murdered her soul, deserted her and forced her to become something she never should have had too. She became a secret keeper. The best damn secret keeper he'd ever seen. Bottling everything up inside, hiding all 'their' sins within the walls and boundaries she'd built around herself. She'd kept their secrets, hid their sins and miraculously survived. By the grace of god she was still here. What they didn't know was that they had built a survivor.

She was a survivor. When she was twelve she'd had nothing else to loose. Seven months pregnant; well hidden between layers of clothes and winter jackets with no one to turn too, no hope for a future, with nothing else to loose. She'd attempted suicide, tried to slit her wrists. She couldn't go through with it and he thanked God for that. Her son at least deserved a chance in this world. He'd seen the scars on her wrists, knew what they meant. His fingers had played lightly of the thin white lines, rubbing them softly, as if the repeated action would will them away as she's lain still beside him in a drug induced slumber. He'd been forced to ask Arvin about those scars. He was almost glad Arvin had been there. After that she'd never been a victim again.

Even months later her cries still haunted him, they were only a mere distant memory now but the one thing he could never forget was when she asked for her Daddy.

Over and over again it puzzled him why she in dreams she would call out for a man she hardly remembered. Perhaps Petrov Khasinau had been a good father to her, or perhaps it was just her subconscious telling her that there was more to the story. To this day he hadn't forgotten, wouldn't ever forget the way her voice sounded. Small, innocent, child like as she pleaded in her terror filled dreams for her father. It was now that Jack wished he could have responded to her with three simple words. 'Daddy's right here.'

The knowledge that Kathryn was his daughter had changed him yes. It left him confused and disoriented yes. But there wasn't a simple switch inside him that automatically turned on and he could start treating her as if she were his daughter. Trust took time to build; he just wasn't sure they had the foundation for that trust or if they had the time to build it. Perhaps he had treated Kathryn a little unfairly. She was Irina's daughter; no one knew anything about her. If he'd had the knowledge then that she was his daughter would it have changed things, changed the way he'd reacted to her? The sad answer was yes. He wouldn't have been so hard on her, alienated her so much, perhaps even offered a few words of comfort.

Irina.

What had possessed her to leave Kathryn in the care of the state? Why had she not sent their daughter to him or made better arrangements for her future, she'd had money, resources, contacts, why hadn't she used them. The simple fact that she was Kathryn Sullivan and not Katarina Bristow or Katarina Derevko told him that Irina had her reasons for keeping their daughter a secret but why in Gods name hadn't she said anything sooner.

He glanced down at the photographs in front of him. Kathryn, age 4, happy and smiling, full of life. Age 5 sad and lonely, big eyes pleading for love and affection, pleading for compassion. Her mother had already died and she was living in hell. Age 17, the photo from a surveillance video. He could barely recognize her; her hair dyed a mirage of bright colors, in her waitressing uniform, the skirt was far too short. She smiled but it was artificial, her eyes told the truth. They hadn't changed since she was 5; she was still sad and lonely. The next one taken two months earlier, the day she'd been rescued from the Covenant. She was recognizable but only just so. The color had been washed out from her hair; swelling and bruises covered most of her face and her arms were hidden under layers of thick bandages. The last photograph, the one taken the week before in Spain. She was dancing with Agent MacGyver, or JD Salenger, as she knew him by. Even underneath the long red wig, piercing blue contacts and all that makeup he could recognize her. The way she carried herself, the way she moved spoke, the way she continuously tucked her hair behind her ears. Everything about her screamed familiarity but he'd denied it all. He'd been hard on her, he shouldn't have but no one wanted her caught up in this life. He hadn't been surprised with her performance at the ball. She'd been taught how to lie, how to deceive from the very best. As much as he wanted to deny it, it couldn't. Sloan was right, she would have made a phenomenal agent but there was no way he would allow it. If he had to, he'd place her in witness protection and never see her again if it meant that she was safe.

He'd seen the signs, subconsciously chose to ignore them, but why? Her appearance had stirred up a feeling he'd thought had long since past. Confusion about her mother. Why had he ignored the signs, they were subtle but looking back he knew they were there if he's just looked a little harder, probed a little deeper he would have found the truth much sooner. She was left-handed, he was left-handed. She was stubborn strong willed never gave up. She was allergic to strawberries; he was allergic to strawberries, the list went on... Why hadn't he done the DNA test when she'd first come to them, why had he waited until only this morning? He'd had no reason to he reminded himself. He hadn't been with her mother since before Laura died. Or so he'd thought.

Madrid, 1985. Exactly nine months before Kathryn was born, five years after Laura died. The timeframe fit, the circumstances fit, everything made sense. He'd been on a mission, he remembered being shot and that was all. Arvin had found him three days later with a roaring fever and a slowly healing gunshot wound, carefully bandaged and cleaned. He'd had no idea who had taken care of him. His blood test results showed traces of a medication, one designed to ensure short-term memory loss. The answer now was obvious. Irina must have been in Madrid. She must have found him, taken him somewhere cared for him, slept with him and then ensured that he had no memory of their encounter.

There was no denying that Kathryn, that Katarina was his daughter. He'd come in to work early. Her blood sample was on file. It took only minutes to confirm what he already knew. She was his daughter. A daughter he never knew existed. He was her father, a man she adamantly disliked. She'd made that perfectly clear in so many words during the plane ride to Spain.

"I've been taking care of myself since I was five years old so don't try to act like some kind of a father to me. You're not my father and I don't need one. I had a father and now he's dead and I've been doing just fine without one."

"You're a horrible father, you lied to her, her whole life-"

"My entire life has been one big lie and I would appreciate it if you would respect that the next time I ask you a question. I want the truth; I don't care what the costs may be. I want the truth!"

He'd contemplated not telling her; perhaps it would be easier if she never knew. He'd made a promise to her however; he wouldn't lie to her. By not telling her that he was her father, he would have been shielding her from the truth yes, but it would have been just another lie and when she found out, despite if he thought it was best for her, there would be hell to pay.

Besides it's not as if her feelings towards him would change. It might take time, if they ever did at all but he didn't know how to handle her, how to handle a teenager. He'd barely been around Sydney in her teenage years. Then again, Kathryn wasn't just any teenager. She had far more life experience than even she wanted to admit.

Then again there was a chance that maybe, she would surprise him…

"Dad?" Sydney knocked and opened his office door. "Are you alright? I got your message and I tried to call but you didn't answer-"

"Sydney come in," Jack stood and closed the door behind her. "We need to talk. Has your mother contacted you recently?"

"No," she said quickly, almost too quickly. "Why would she?"

"Where's Kathryn?"

"She's with Marshall, they're working on some kind of computer program or something but she said she had something important she wants to show you-Dad what's going on?"

"Sit down," Jack sat on the edge of his desk and waited until she sat in the chair. "We need to talk… it's about Kathryn."

~ ~ ~

"So if you just change the variables then ta da……" Marshall stood back hitting a few keys on his computer.

"That is so cool," Kathryn grinned looking at the hemp bracelet around her wrist, "you wouldn't even know."

"That's the beauty of it," Marshall grinned. "It's so tiny---" he was interrupted by his phone and he answered it.

"That was Agent Bristow, Jack, he needs to see you right away, he sounded…upset."

"Great," she sighed slipping off the edge of his desk. "I wonder what crime I've committed now. I'll see you later Marshall, ah almost forgot" she grabbed her doll Sophie, off the desk.

"Bye Kat," he waved her off. "Oh wait the bracelet-" but she was gone. He shrugged; he'd get it back from her later.

~ ~ ~

Kat knocked on Jack's office door and opened it. He and Sydney were both in there deep in conversation. There was silence as she entered. She crossed her arms over her chest nervously, something was wrong.

"What ever they said I did, I didn't do it," she said immediately sure that she was in trouble for something, hopefully not the small practical joke she'd played on Kendall the week before.

"What?" Jack asked confused. "Kathryn come in, we need to talk."

"What's going on? Has something happened?" she asked concerned.

"Sit down."

"I'd rather stand thank you, Syd-"

"Kathryn, just sit down," Sydney stood and took her hand and led her to the couch. Jack closed the blinds in his office ensuring complete privacy and pulled a chair over to sit in front of Kathryn and Sydney.

"What's going on? Why so secretive?" She was worried now and scared. Slowly she brought her legs up to her chest wrapping her arms around them, holding her doll against her chest.

"Have you ever seen this before?" Carefully Jack handed her the book.

She ran her fingers over the worn cover smiling faintly. "It's mine, it's my favorite," she said wistfully, her eyes filling with tears. "It's A Little Princess, a first edition. Mom gave it to me on my fourth birthday. She and I, we were reading it, how did you find it? I haven't seen it since before she died—before she left."

"She sent it to me."

"What?"

"I found it outside my front door last night." Jack opened the inside cover.

"This wasn't there before-" Kathryn said confused tracing her fingers over the short script. "She has your spirit," she read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"Katy do you recognize the handwriting?" Sydney asked.

"Yeah, it's hers… my moth- it's Irina's," she nodded and slowly opened the book to the marker. "We were reading it right before she went to work, we stopped on chapter twelve—" she pulled out the folded up piece of paper "what is this," she asked opening it.

"Kathryn, your mother sent me this book to tell me, to tell us something."

"What are you talking about?" she asked unfolding the paper.

"Alexander Khasinau is not your father," Jack watched her as she unfolded the birth certificate. The color drained from her face. "I am."

She was silent staring at the paper she held in her hand. "Katarina Madrid Bristow," she read. "Mother, Irina Derevko; father Jonathan Donahue Bristow. Born …… This is a mistake." She said finally.

"Kathryn-"

"No," she dropped her hand and the birth certificate fell to the floor. "That's not even my birthday. Whatever game she's trying to play-"

"Katy-"

"Don't call me that," she stood glaring at Jack in disbelief. "This isn't me, I wasn't born in Canada, I was born in New York City, I've lived there my whole life."

"Kathryn sit down, I know this is somewhat of a shock to you but you need to understand—"

"She's a liar. My name is Kathryn Anne Sullivan-" She began to walk away but Jack grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Kathryn Sullivan never existed and you know that. Paul Sullivan was just an alias Irina created—"

"Let go of me," her eyes were cold filled with unshed tears that she refused to let spill.

"I understand that this is difficult to accept, the circumstances surrounding your conception were unusual."

"I don't want to hear this," she tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her go. Sydney sat calmly on the couch allowing the events to play out without her interruption.

"You need to calm down and listen to me. I did a DNA test, the results were conclusive-"

"I don't need to do anything you say. You're not my father," she spat at him, catching him off guard and jerked her arm away.

"Katy, please just listen to what he has to say-" Sydney pleaded.

"You actually believe this, you of all people-"

Jack got the DNA results from his desk and handed them to her. "I know that you know how to read this. Blood doesn't lie Kathryn."

She glanced down at the paper. "She must have done something to manipulate—"

"Kathryn I did the test myself, there is no mistake. I understand that this is difficult for you to accept-"

"Difficult? This is ludicrous," she felt like screaming at him. Why were they so resigned to accept it? "I was born six years after she left you, therefore you couldn't be my father, it's impossible-"

"It's not impossible. Kathryn, nine months almost to the day before you were born, I was on a mission in Madrid, I was shot, I lost three days, I don't remember-"

"You don't remember sleeping with your wife?" she laughed. "Oh excuse me, I apologize ex-wife, it is kind of hard to keep track you know."

"That's exactly what I am saying. When I was found I had traces of a chemical in my blood stream. It's designed to induce short term memory loss."

"This is ridiculous," she sighed closing her eyes. "Whatever she or you hope to gain by this just don't try--you're not my father and I don't need you." She grabbed her sweater from the edge of the sofa and reached for the door handle.

"Where do you think you're going, we need to talk about this."

"No," she turned around the door half-open. "You want to tell lies and I have nothing to say to you."

"Katy please," Sydney reached for her hand. "Please don't leave like this, he's telling the truth, he is your father, our father. We're not trying to hurt you."

"Correction, you're not trying to hurt me," her voice was cold, flat. She looked at Jack. "He has a hidden agenda," he avoided her gaze. "I have an appointment with Barnette, I'll be back later—I just, I need to think and I can't do that here." She turned and let the door slam behind her.

"She doesn't mean it Dad, I'll talk to her," Sydney reached for her jacket.

"No."

"What?"

"Leave her be for now, talk to her after her session with Barnette, she'll be calmer, think clearer."

She nodded, "we have a briefing in an hour, I need to prepare my notes." She watched her father pick up Kathryn's birth certificate and her doll. He held the doll up to show Sydney who just shrugged unsure of why she'd brought it and he slipped it into one of his desk drawers. She bent and picked up the book and handed to her father. "Dad, she didn't mean what she said. She's just confused. We both know she could read those DNA results. She knows that you're telling the truth, you were right blood doesn't lie, it'll just take her some time."

Jack folded up the birth certificate and slid it back into the book marking chapter twelve. "You'd better go, I'll see you at the briefing."

Sydney nodded and left his office. Why had her mother chosen now to reveal this information? Was it because of their meeting the day before or had she been planning to do it all along? Perhaps it was an attempt to relieve her own guilt. Whatever her mother's reasons were at least now they knew the truth.

~ ~ ~

"The question still remains is why Sark had his own man assassinated," Dixon sat down in his chair in the briefing room.

"It's just not his style," Sydney sighed twisting her pen cap. She glanced up at her father; he'd been particularly quiet during the meeting, no doubt still concerned about his confrontation with Kathryn.

A knock on the door interrupted them and in walked Jack's secretary. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Agent Bristow you have a call from Dr. Barnette, she wanted to know why Miss. Sullivan missed her appointment, she's on line one, I thought you'd want to know right away."

Jack grabbed the phone and connected to Barnette's office. "Barnette, this is Jack Bristow, Kathryn never showed up for her appointment? Contact me immediately if she does." He turned to his secretary, "get security up here, I want all exits sealed until a thorough search has been made."

His secretary nodded and left the room.

"She hasn't called me," Sydney set her phone down on the table. "What are you thinking?" she asked her father.

"Jack is that really necessary?" Dixon asked.

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "I don't think she's in the building anymore and she's ticked off."

"Agent Bristow, Jack I might be able to help," Marshall stood and walked over to the group. "When you last saw her was she wearing a bracelet?"

Jack shrugged and turned to Sydney. "Yes," she nodded slowly. "A brown one with beads on it."

"My latest invention," he grinned. "I was showing it to her before you called her to your office. "It has a transmitter in it."

"Activate it," Jack moved so he could sit in front of the computer. Marshall logged onto his server with the other agents crowding around the terminal.

"Well good news and bad news," Marshall said. "Good news is that she is still wearing the bracelet, the bad news is that currently she's flying over the Pacific Ocean."

"Oh my god," Sydney closed her eyes sighing. "They've got her."

Jack met her eyes; "the question is who."

~ ~ ~

2 hours later

"Dad," Sydney burst into his office. "Marshall's located her transmitter again, she's in Mexico City at the airport. There's a team nearby, they're searching the airport now."

Jack got up from his desk and followed Sydney into the rotunda. Marshall sat at a terminal with Dixon, Weiss, Vaughn and Kendall surrounding him.

Jack and Sydney slipped on headsets as they waited for news about Kathryn. Several minutes later the operations leader came on.

"We found the transmitter," his voice crackled through. "It was in the women's bathroom, in the garbage. Negative on the target. She's not here."

"Damn it," Jack swore and threw down his headset. He turned to Sydney and took her hand squeezing it gently. "We'll find her sweetheart. We have to."

"I know," she turned and hugged him. "She'll be okay, she's strong—like you. She has to be okay."

Jack held her close stroking her hair. "Don't you worry, we'll find her." They had to find her; failure was not an option.

~ ~ ~

Groggily Kathryn opened her eyes. Every muscle in her body ached. She'd been unconscious for hours. She tried to sit up but she couldn't, her arms and legs were strapped to a table. A guard came near her his gun trained on her.

"Hey, how's it going," she said hoarsely, watching him as he unbuckled her arms and legs freeing them from the restraints.

"On your feet," he said in a thick Russian accent and roughly he grabbed her arm and she slid off the table. Her legs felt numb and week as he directed her to a man across the room. The man raised his gun and pointed it at her and the guard handcuffed her hands behind her back.

"I know you," she said softly recognizing him. "You broke my arm."

"On your knees."

When she didn't move the guard pushed her down and she cried out in pain as her knees slammed into the concrete.

"This will finally end." The man cocked his gun and she felt the cool metal against her temple.

She swallowed hard; tears snaked their way down her cheeks, so this was the end. "We could talk about this you know, before you do anything rash, before you do something you'll regret."

"Quiet," he shouted at her. His hand was steady, controlled as he held the gun to her head.

"It's just that I'm sure we can work something out. What ever the Covenant is paying you to kill me, I'm sure it mustn't nearly be enough," her voice trembled from fear

"I'm not part of The Covenant," he pulled the gun away from her head momentarily teasing her and she looked up at him her cheeks stained with tears, her eyes pleading. He laughed and replaced the gun against her head. "Say good bye Katarina."

"Please, no-" her words were lost and her world exploded as he pulled the trigger and everything went black.