Irina: Don't pretend I'm something I'm not. (2:15, A Free Agent)

For as long as he could remember, Jack had hated hospitals. There was nothing to do except lie in bed and think, and there were some things Jack did not want to think about. And, of course, hospitals were a reminder of the weakness of the human body.

A reminder that he was getting old. One of the things he tried to avoid thinking about. At least the throat tube had been taken out, he thought.

His nurse entered – Michelle, he'd since learned. She was carrying an arrangement of wild flowers, and Jack felt a sudden, unwelcome ache in his chest. Laura had loved wild flowers.

Michelle gave him the card and left the room. Good, he thought. She was learning.

He opened the envelope. It wasn't a card, but a folded piece of paper. The message was short: I'm glad you're okay. There was no signature, but he recognized the handwriting.

He wondered; did this mean that part of his wife hadn't been a lie? Or was this simply part of a new game she was playing? Somehow, he couldn't reconcile the Irina in his mind's eye as a lover of wild flowers.

I'm glad you're okay. What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway?

He hated that this woman was still capable of turning him inside out after all these years, hated that he was stuck in this hospital bed and forced to think about her—

"Dad?"

He closed his fist around the note and looked to the door. Sydney stood there, wearing black leather and sporting spiky blue hair, and he smiled for the first time since he'd woken up.

"Do I even want to know what you've been up to?"

Sydney crossed the room, then stopped at the side of the bed and awkwardly reached for his hand. "I was in Germany when I heard – I couldn't think straight – They said you were critical – I got here as soon as I could – Dad, what happened?"

"I was shot."

Sydney looked around the room, not focusing on anything, her gaze finally coming to rest on Jack. "Were you on a mission?"

"Not exactly."

Sydney's features hardened. "What happened?"

Jack sighed.

Sydney looked around the room again, this time catching sight of the flower arrangement. She swung her head back, her eyes narrowed. "Did Mom do this to you?"

"I don't remember." He felt the piece of paper in his hand. I'm glad you're okay. The words could mean anything. He repeated, "I don't remember."

"We'll catch her one of these days."

And Jack studied his daughter, black leather and blue hair, and wondered what had happened to his little girl.

When Jack turned off the water, he heard giggling from the bedroom. Curious, he stepped out the shower and, wrapping a towel around his waist, went to investigate.

Laura sat in the middle of the bed, Sydney between her legs. Laura was attempting to braid Sydney's hair, no easy task when it came to Sydney's inability to sit still for longer than five minutes at a time.

"It's my turn now," Sydney insisted, wriggling around until she faced her mother. "I wanna brush your hair."

"Sweetheart, I'm not done yet."

Sydney pouted and turned to Jack. "Daddy?"

He laughed and slowly crossed the room to his girls. "Sweetheart."

"Mommy won't let me brush her hair." Sydney shot an accusatory look in Laura's direction.

"What if I let you brush my hair while Mommy finished yours?"

Sydney wrinkled her nose. "You got short hair. An' it's not soft like Mommy's."

Jack had to concede – Laura had amazing hair. "Well, would you let me braid your hair while you brush Mommy's?"

Sydney looked at Laura, her eyes wide, and whispered, "Can daddies do braids?"

Laura laughed and handed Jack the brush she'd been using. "We're about to find out."

Sydney picked up Laura's brush and started pulling it through Laura's hair. Jack stared at the brush he held, then glanced at Laura. She smiled. Jack shrugged and moved around the bed.

He hadn't realized Sydney's hair was so fine. No sooner had he twisted it into a braid, when it started to come undone. His fingers felt think and clumsy and he envied Laura's ability to do this effortlessly every day.

When Sydney grew bored of the activity, she hopped off the bed and went to her room, something resembling a braid swinging across her back. Jack turned his attention to Laura's hair.

"I'm not sure I can fix this," he said, solemnly, "we might have to shave it all and start from scratch."

Laura tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "I think the best option would be to wash my hair. The conditioner will get the knots out."

He tried to hide his smile. "I've just had a shower."

"You can never be too clean."

"Sydney—"

"Ten minutes, Jack. She can keep herself busy for ten minutes."

Jack scooped Laura off the bed and carried her to the bathroom.

TBC