A/N: Thank you for the review and words of encouragement! It's appreciated.
Chapter 9: The Deus Ex Machina
Michael Vaughn's Apartment
Monday Night
He grabbed another beer, twisted off the top and tossed it over his head toward the trash bin. It hit off the wall and dropped into the bin. Score! He laughed at himself and took a sip of beer and turned back to the living room. Alice had gotten back with him about the rare books he'd asked her to track down. He had picked them up from her during his lunch break and now he was finally able to sit down and look them over.
Picking up the remote, he muted the television as the Los Angeles Lakers were leading the Washington Wizards 66 to 49 going into the start of the third quarter. The Wizards didn't stand a chance against Shaq and Kobe. Vaughn sat down on the worn couch and picked up one of the books that was stacked on the coffee table and flipped it open. Besides the rarity of the books, there wasn't anything special about them that he saw. There wasn't anything written in the margins, no slips of paper falling out from in between the pages.
Tossing the book onto the table, he picked up another, glanced at the television and watched as Kobe dunked the ball over a defenders head. He opened the book and looked down. The words written on the title page caught his attention.
"Laura, all my love forever and a day, Jack."
The "Jack" had to have been Jack Donahue. Who was Laura? There was a lot in the C.I.A file that had been redacted, including family history. And "all my love forever and a day"? That was actually romantic. He tried to picture Jack being romantic. It hurt his head. He couldn't even picture Jack smiling or being remotely happy. The thought of him actually writing something so sweet was confusing and nauseating.
Flipping through the book, again he didn't find anything that would validate why the C.I.A. would have taken an interest in them. Vaughn sighed in frustration and tossed it onto the table and picked up the beer bottle. As he drank and watched the rest of the basketball game on mute, he tried to reason out the significance. It had been the Cold War. That was where he had to take his mind in order to figure it out.
KGB spies in America during the Cold War, using books as cypher texts for secret encoded messages that they used to pass along to other agents. Was that what this was all about? Were these books used to decode secret KGB messages? Vaughn stared at the books and thought about the fact that Jack had obviously bought, or given them, to a woman. His wife? Had Jack been married?
Sitting up, he picked up the C.I.A. file that had been shoved into the shelf under the coffee table and flipped it open. Going back to the pages that listed the rare books, he read over the name of the listed agent who had been involved in the investigation. He wasn't C.I.A. but F.B.I., Agent Bentley Calder. Jack had been under investigation by the F.B.I. during the early 80's.
He went over to his home computer and began searching databases for any information on Bentley Calder. He found a death certificate. Agent Bentley Calder had died in 1981 in a car accident that took place in Maryland. Other than that, he had no lead.
He looked back over at the books on the coffee table and thought about Kate Jones. She was a Philologist. Maybe she could find something in the text of the books that could help him. He grabbed his phone and found her number in the contacts. Remembering their Friday night "date", he smiled.
The phone went to voicemail and he closed his eyes as he debated what to say. He hated leaving messages. "Hey, uh...Kate," he said in a French accent. This was getting ridiculous. He really liked this girl. He needed to come clean with her. And he would. If she agreed to a second, real, date. "This is Henri. I um, I was just calling to see how you were and if-I have an interesting collection of rare books I wanted to show you. Give me a call when you can. Maybe we could get a-"
The voicemail cut him off, saying he'd reached the time limit. He pulled the phone away and stared at it and shook his head. He was such an idiot. Well, she had his number and once she listened to his horrible message, and didn't laugh too hard at him, maybe she'd call him back.
Until then, he collapsed back onto the couch, grabbed the beer bottle and remote control, and unmuted the TV.
The Rendezvous
Tuesday Morning
Jack sipped at a cup of black coffee as he flipped through the financial records Will had obtained. He didn't ask how he got the files and didn't care. There were more important things to consider, like where was this bank in France actually located. If he could access their records, he would have access to the Alliance's money and assets. And if he had access to their money and assets then so would the C.I.A..
There were hundreds of banks in France, he needed a way to narrow it down. If only he knew where-
Jack spotted a pen clipped to pages in a file, holding the last place where Will left off reading. He pulled it out and looked at it. It wasn't one of his pens, but one of Will's. He'd gotten from UCLA either when he studied there or during a visit. Antonio Lafayette had a bag full of pens from places he'd visited, including banks.
Dropping the pen, he grabbed his car keys as he realized that he left the bag of pens in his own car. He was up and heading off the boat when he heard Will's voice call out his name. He hurried down the dock and up the ramp and then across the street to his car. Grabbing the bag out of the middle console, he hurried back to his boat.
Will was waiting for him with a cup of coffee and a look of concern as he asked, "What happened? You ran out of here like the place was on fire."
Jack opened the bag and deposited the pens over the table. "I found these in Lafayette's car. He'd taken these pens from places he'd visited. It's possible he'd visited the bank-"
"The one in France?" Will asked as he started searching through the pens. "It was Bordeaux-" He stopped as he smiled and picked up a pen and read it, "Banque Citadelle, Bordeaux, France."
Jack took the pen from him and read it with a slight smile. "Citadelle is a French word for citadel, meaning a castle or fortress." The Alliance loved to name things literally to represent what they were intended to be. SD, Section Disparu, "the section which has disappeared", and now a bank that was a fortress, which was impossible to penetrate, that surrounded castles, i.e, the Alliance members money and assets.
"Now what?"
"I go to France, but after we take care of your problem."
Will looked confused before he said, "I still have a psycho stalker killer after me. I can't go home right now, can I?" His eyes got wide as he stood. "Oh, my God! My sister! He won't go after her, would he?"
Jack honestly didn't know. Handing him his phone, he told him, "Call her. Tell her to stay with...whomever she can stay with. A friend-"
Will took the phone as he told him, "She can stay with her boyfriend. Ethan...Evan...No, Ethan-Hell, I don't remember his name."
Giving Will his privacy as he called his sister, Jack opened his laptop and searched Banque Citadelle in France. There was only one listing and it was near the Garonne River, by the Port de Pierre Bridge. He could already visualize all the possible exit strategies and extraction points along the way. SD-6 and the C.I.A. both had safe houses across the river.
Absently, he asked Will, "Is Amy okay?"
Will had ended the call with her and handed his phone back to him as he answered, "Yeah, she's good. She's actually at her boyfriend's house now. I told her to stay there for a few days; that the landlord decided to fumigate...How are we going to handle this? What are we going to do?"
Looking over at Will, he told him, "You are going to stay here."
"What?! No. Jack, I can help. He's after me!"
"No, he's after me," he corrected. Jack couldn't risk putting Will in danger; not now. "I told you I would protect you. This is what I do."
Will argued back, stating, "I can make my own decisions. I was the one who had to run for my life after my truck blew up. I'll do whatever you say, but I'm going to help."
Jack looked him over. Will was a sight to see. He was literally standing in front of him with nothing on but a pair of boxer shorts and eyeglasses with his arms crossed over his chest, and he had the audacity to tell him what he was going to do? Will had guts, he'd give him that. It caused him to love him even more. Smiling slightly, he said, "Fine, we'll do it your way."
"Good," Will said with a nod. "Now, I'm going to need pants. Mind if I give Leslie Cole a call and have him deliver an outfit to me? He has my measurements and none of your clothes here fit me."
It took everything he had to not start laughing as he tried to remain serious. "You tried on my clothes?"
"No," he said, but then told him, "I looked them over. You're-" he gestured over at him, "-We're only an inch difference in height but your stature is bigger, wider, than mine."
Jack stared at him as he said, "Bigger?"
"I'll shut up," Will said as he picked up the cell phone. "And that was a compliment, by the way."
Jack shook his head as he went back to work on the laptop. He had a lot to figure out, not to mention a plane ticket to buy with an alias because he would not be informing SD-6 of his trip to France.
Will leaned over his shoulder and said, "I wanna go with you."
He looked at him and saw his determination. He could use the help; so, he purchased two tickets. They would leave early Saturday morning, after the banquet Friday night. "You probably have a lot of people worried about you today," Jack told him. "What're you going to do about what happened yesterday?"
"What'd you mean?"
Jack stared at Will as he told him, "It's a crime scene; one that involved an explosive device."
"Oh," Will said as he straightened.
"Oh is right. You didn't think that far ahead, did you?" Jack asked and saw Will's face drop. He didn't mean for it to come out as condescending as it sounded. Moving past it, he asked, "Where were you yesterday when it happened?"
"Downtown. I went to visit Charlie; that's where I got the rest of the files and paperwork about Anicetus Security's financial records and real estate property."
"Was your truck on the street-"
"In a parking lot."
"Open lot or a garage?"
"Open lot, why all these-"
"It could be treated as a terrorist investigation," Jack told him as he got up and grabbed his coffee cup. He needed more coffee. "If that's the case, they could bring in the FBI. Will," he said as he poured some coffee into the cup, "today I want you to go to the police station."
"Are you serious?" The moment he said it, Will snapped his mouth shut and sighed. "Of course you are. Okay, and say what?"
"That's what we have to figure out. You left the scene."
Will stared at him and said, "I was nearly blown up! I panicked."
He sat down and took a sip of the coffee as he thought about it. There was only one way to handle it. "You have to tell them the truth."
Will stood and started to pace the floor. "All of it? Jack...I threw my cell in the truck. I can't prove-"
"They'll get the phone records. Or, you get your own phone records and take them with you. Take it all with you. Everything. You tell them you were covering a story and you were getting too close to the truth-"
"The police will start poking around Anicetus Security." Will turned to him and said, "Wouldn't that be, I don't know, bad, for the both of us?"
Jack couldn't see any other way. Will wouldn't be able to lie his way out of it. They needed the police to focus their attention away from Will. They needed to go after the real killer of Antonio Lafayette. "Julian Sark."
"What?"
He eyed Will as he told him, "The courier I used to deliver the flash drive to you, his name is Julian Sark. He's the one who shot and killed Antonio Lafayette that night."
"Okay, how does that help me?"
"You give what you have to the police, you name Julian Sark as the person you saw shoot Lafayette in the hallway."
Will sat back down and put his head in his hands. "I didn't see him-"
"You did," he told him. "Their own police report will confirm your alibi and collaborate with the witness statements. You were seen coming out of the bathroom and being the one to alert the staff to call the police regarding the shooting, correct?"
"Yeah, but..Jack-I..." Will picked up his coffee and took a drink.
He stood and walked over and sat by Will. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he rubbed the tense muscles under his palm as he said, "The only way to get out in front of this is to give them the shooter."
"I have phone records of his call to you," Will said. "It's not Julian's phone number."
"Look at me." Jack waited patiently as Will rubbed his head but once he finally looked at him, told him, "I told you I work for the government. My field of expertise is in Intelligence. You give them what you have, and leave the rest to me."
Will was still shaky and uncertain as he asked, "What if they want to hold me or interrogate-"
"They can't do that. If they try, ask for a lawyer. Don't let them make you think you can't get one, or that you can't walk out at any time, because you can. Just get up and go."
"And if they ask about you?"
Jack let out a breath and then said, "Tell them the truth. I was with you. I'm your partner. I will tell them that you opened the door and saw the shooter if I'm questioned."
"Who just so happens to work with you. How convenient."
"That's not for you to worry about. I made you leave the club that night. Tell them I did that. Will, don't lie about anything, except about seeing the shooter. Julian is guilty. We both know it. I know it."
Will gave a nod and let out a breath. "Is that why you think this Julian guy tried to kill me? Not because I was close to you, but that I was close to finding out about him?"
"It was most likely both. He's suspicious of me." Jack didn't want to say too much, get too specific, but he also knew he had to ease Will's fear and tension. A little of the truth would help. "I'm the whistle-blower in this situation, Will, and Julian doesn't want any of this to go public. If it did, then his crime of murdering Antonio Lafayette would be uncovered. Do your job and reveal the truth. That's all you have to do."
For a moment, Jack didn't know if Will would be able to go through with it, but then he gave a nod and looked over at him. Smiling slightly, Will said, "You're right. I have to do this."
Jack squeezed his shoulder and stood. "Once I get to work, I'll get a new cell phone. I'll call your phone so you'll have my new number. Do not go to the police until after I call you."
Will stared at him as he said, "A new phone?"
Jack picked up his cell phone and pocketed it without answering. The less Will knew, the better. "I don't want you to go home today." He picked up a pen and grabbed Will's notebook and flipped to a blank page. "Here's my address. I can either give you the key so you can get in or we can meet up after I get off work. I guess it depends on how long it takes at the police department and what you want to do."
Looking over at Will, he saw him staring at him. He looked around, wondering what it was he was staring at, when Will said, "You work in Intelligence? So, you're like...James Bond?"
Jack ripped the piece of paper out of the notebook and handed it to him. "I'm not British."
U.S. Joint Intelligence Task Force
Wednesday Afternoon
Sydney found Doctor Kerr in her office. She looked up from her desk in surprise as she entered the room. Shutting the door behind her, she stepped up to the desk and said, "I need you to do something for me?"
"Will I regret it later?" Kerr asked hesitantly as they stared at one another.
"No, I don't think so. I need to recover a memory. I heard hypnosis-"
"You want me to hypnotize you?" The doctor leaned back and then stood as she walked around her desk. "Decaf?" she asked as she gestured to a brewed pot of coffee on the table by the door.
She didn't answer as she said, "I want you to take me back to when I was a kid. I think I-I remember taking part in Project Christmas."
"Is that why Dixon was concerned for you in Budapest? In his report, he stated that there was a gap in time when he tried to talk to you and you didn't respond. It happened while you were alone in the viewing room."
Sydney sighed and shook her head. She would have to have a talk with Dixon about why he thought that was important to put in the report. "Yes. I had a dream a few nights ago about my real parents and it sparked a memory I had of receiving weapons training when I was a teenager. And in that memory, while I was loading the gun, I had a feeling that I'd done it before. I even remembered thinking I'd done it before but I don't recall a time when I actually did. Then, I saw those kids. I saw them blindfolded loading a gun and I knew that's what I'd done. I had been trained-"
"Agent Sloane, I've seen your profile. Your spatial intelligence, weapons proficiency-In every category you're exceptional-"
"That's why I would've been a perfect test subject. Or, why I am exceptional. My father is Arvin Sloane for crying out loud-"
She was offered the cup Kerr had poured but waved it away. Sydney didn't want any coffee that held little to no caffeine. What was the point? Taste alone? "No thanks."
Kerr took a sip and walked back around her desk and sat down. "Jack Donahue is his second in command. A man who is very high on our suspect list of being responsible for one of our assets being murdered. You haven't visited him since you found out he could be a terrorist, along with your father."
"I've been busy," she said but then realized that she had been purposely avoiding both her dad and Jack.
She didn't know what to say or do. Being able to compartmentalize was essential to her survival; she couldn't get emotionally connected and allowed herself to be vulnerable. When it came to family, she was vulnerable. She was emotionally connected. She didn't know if she could remain impartial, indifferent, and calm if confronted by either one of them.
Sydney dropped down in the chair and looked out the window that overlooked the parking lot. What a horrible view. "I don't remember my childhood. Nothing before age 8. Nothing before I went to live with my adoptive parents and even my first two years with them is a blur. All I have is that one dream. It's the same since I was kid. It's stuck on repeat, playing over and over. It never changes. That's not possible. Dreams change all the time. So do memories. This one doesn't. It's like everything had been erased from previous life, except for that one dream." Looking at Kerr, she said, "I don't know where I came from, but I know for a fact I was part of Project Christmas. Don't you want to know why? I do."
"My, aren't you dogged."
"I have to be in order to do my job," she responded back. "I'm sure it earns me the competition from women and the title of "bitch" with men, but yet, I'm still here."
Kerr eyed her, an amused smile appearing on her face. She liked her. Sitting the cup down she leaned on the desk, telling her, "If you're looking to uncover a trauma then I need to warn you that hypnotic regression can trigger severe nightmares, flashbacks, acute depression-"
"And you need to understand that to do what I do for the C.I.A., I have to compartmentalize a lot. But the idea that I'd been programmed to be a spy, and how that might in someway be connected to what happened to my real parents, I can't walk away from that. I won't be able to move on until I know what happened to me and to them. You want to find out how dogged I truly am, let me walk out that door with a dismissal."
After a brief moment, Kerr resided as she said, "Okay. When do you want to do this?"
"How about right now? Are you busy?"
Ten minutes later she was asked to close her eyes by Kerr. Apparently Kerr had an important phone call to make and told her to step out of the office and wait. Sydney wondered if the phone call had been about her request for a hypnotic session with the doctor. She probably had to get clearance from Devlin, or to warn him about the procedure.
"I'm going to count back from three. When I get to one, I want you to tell me where you are. Ready?"
She gave a nod. She was always ready as she always had to be ready.
"3...2...1."
She opened her eyes into a hallway. The house was a craftsman's style with wood trim and architecture. She looked around at the blurred framed pictures that hung on the walls. The sound of laughter broke her from her confusion as she walked to the first door on the left. It was a bedroom and she saw herself, her younger self, about age six? She was sitting up in the built-in seating along the window, a crayon in her hand and a picture book propped up against her legs. The bed was covered with a plain white quilt and stuffed animals.
"Whose home are you in?"
"Mine. When I was a child." Sydney heard the words as she tried to focus. In her head, she was distracted by an image.
Walking over to the piano, she sat down. She was no longer in her childhood bedroom, but another room. It had built-in bookshelves littered with books and a desk full of papers and files, and the piano. Feeling the keys under her fingers, she pressed a key and closed her eyes as the sound rescinded deep within her mind. A song came to mind but she didn't know how to put the music notes in the correct order of keys to figure out what song it was.
It was there, in her mind, just barely out of reach. A song that she loved. A song her dad would sing-
"Look around the study. Do you see a gun? Do any of the files pertain to Project Christmas?"
Standing up, she walked around the study and took in the books. There were so many from a variety of different subjects and mostly non-fiction. History books, psychology books, aero-physics, and game theory.
A man's voice drifted in from the next room. His voice was familiar. It felt like home. It was safe. Her dad. "I'm taking care of Christmas...I told you it'll be soon. No, no, it's all set. Christmas is ready to-"
On a table, she spotted the gun and empty magazine. Suddenly she saw her younger self in front of the table picking up the gun, loading it, just like those other children in Budapest. A sense of fear shot through her-
"Don't be afraid. You're safe. Look around and tell me who else is in the room," Kerr's voice ordered her in a calming tone.
She loaded the gun and pointed it up into the air and squeezed the trigger. A shadow appeared over her and when she looked to see who it was, a man's hand wrapped around hers, taking the gun from her.
"Good work, Sydney," Jack told her as he held the gun in his own hand. "That's my girl," he said with a smile and wink.
Her eyes shot open into the office as she took in a ragged deep breath. Kerr was staring at her in anticipation. She must have been waiting for something. "What?"
"Who did you see?"
Sydney shook her head as she replayed the image in her head. It'd been Jack who was there in the house. Jack was the one who had trained her using Project Christmas. The words she had heard in the memory came to mind. He'd been on the phone talking about Christmas. He was the one…
He was-Jack was-Her father?
Sydney stared over at Doctor Kerr and went to speak when nothing came out. She tried again and found herself saying, "I lost the image. It was there then it was gone-I don't remember. But I do know the truth. I was programmed to be a spy when I was six years old."
She felt the anger in her chest as she both lied and told the truth to Kerr. She remembered very clearly the person she saw in the memory. She heard his voice, the words he'd spoken, and knew she was right. Jack Donahue was a part of Project Christmas, and it was possible he was her real father.
Downtown Los Angeles
Late Wednesday Afternoon
Will didn't know what he was thinking. Jack had come up with a plan, one that required him to be the bait, and he agreed. He really couldn't complain, he asked for it. There was no backing out now.
Yesterday, he'd done what Jack told him to do and went to the police. They kept him for hours as he gave them everything he collected during his own investigation into the shooting of Antonio Lafayette. And he had given up Julian Sark as the shooter. They did question him, but didn't try to hold him but they did want him to go over everything, piece by piece. He had a good rapport with the police since he was a reporter, and they let him go once they heard his whole story.
He still didn't know if they contacted Jack or not, and Jack didn't say anything about it. Today, they had a whole new issue to deal with. And that issue was Julian Sark.
It was getting late in the day as the sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers. There was some congestion with people, business men and women, coming and going from their offices. Angel's Flight was considered the shortest railway in the world and had only two cars, named Sinai and Olivet, that ran up and down the slope in opposite directions. The line to get on the funicular car that took people from the bottom of the steep slope on Hill Street to the top of Bunker Hill wasn't too long but he was starting to get anxious waiting.
He looked like another businessman, either going to work or on his way home, as he adjusted the tie around his neck again. He hated ties.
"Stop fidgeting." He heard Jack's voice in his ear and he went to touch the ear piece when he heard, "Don't touch your ear."
Will turned his arm and checked the time on the watch instead. "Sorry. I'm nervous."
"Take a deep breath and remember that the reason why we're doing this run through is so that when you're doing it for real Friday night, it won't be new and overwhelming."
He could trust Jack. He could trust Jack. Those words had become like a mantra in his head as he paid the fifty cent fair and got onto the car at the bottom of Hill Street. As he sat down and watched the other passengers as they got on, he thought back to the phone conversation he had with his psycho stalker.
"How'd you get this number," the man asked in a British accent.
"I'm resourceful and you're not so bright. I had your license plate. NL2553. It tracked back to Anicetus Security. So I figured you work with Jack. I asked if he knew who used that company car and he told me your name. Turns out, you parked that car in overnight parking at the airport. I followed you and saw who you were. Blond guy, right? How was Budapest?"
'"I. Get. It."
"I was surprised to find out you actually used your real name for the flight, Julian."
Julian Sark was quiet on the other line and then said, "Does this mean you've reconsidered?"
"No, but we both need something from one another. I was thinking of a trade, face-to-face and with no car bombs."
"Why are you willing to meet with me after I nearly killed you?"
Will sighed into the phone as he told him, "Because I don't know who to trust. This story I'm working on, the information you gave me, it all points to Jack. And I think that's why you wanted to know about him and what I uncovered. Were you trying to warn me about him? You're a whistle-blower, right? Look, I can help you, but we have to stop with this cloak-and-dagger bullshit. I'm-I'm tired and-and I just want this to end. I just want to go home. I'll give you everything you want, just promise me I get to walk away. That's the trade. I'll give you everything I have in exchange for my life."
"What do you know about Mr. Donahue?"
"Lafayette called him to meet at club Thrive that night. I have the phone records. I figured it out. He was-Jack's the reason that Lafayette guy got killed. I think he had him killed. I can't-He scares me. I mean, he has a gun and I don't know...Jack is-He might kill me if he finds out what I know about-...I heard him talking. What'd you know about the Prophecy? Is that what you want? Is that what this is about?"
Julian was quiet on the other end of the phone before saying, "Are you on a cellular phone?"
"Yes, wh-"
"Don't say anything else. I'll meet you."
"Anywhere as long as it's in public. I don't want to be anywhere alone with you."
Julian was quiet, then told him, "Friday. Bunker Hill at the top of Angel's Flight. Sunset."
"Sunset? That's vague-"
"Eight-thirty."
"I'll be there."
After he told Jack where Julian Sark wanted to meet, he had quickly developed a strategy to get Stark alone after he asked him one question: what did he know about the tunnels?
Will glanced out the window of the railcar and saw the sun setting lower in the sky as it started moving up the slope. There were about 250 tunnels, 11 miles worth, under the city of Los Angeles dating back to, and even before, the prohibition days. They had originally been used for underground transport and railways before they were used for running illegal alcohol.
There were also abandoned speakeasies under the city as well. Most of the tunnels were closed off now, except for the tunnel connecting the Hall of Records to the Kenneth Hahn Hall of Administration, the tunnel that transported prisoners to and from the court house, and the one running under Angel's Flight. That tunnel had been part of the original red car subway tracks.
Jack stood at the corner of Hill and 4th Street and pointed up 4th toward Olive Street. The Angel's Knoll park was directly in front of them with Angel's Flight off to the right. At the top of the slope was California Plaza and the part of downtown called Bunker Hill. "There's a walk path going through the park that exits up on Olive. Hidden in the trees up by the exit is an emergency service exit that was built for the workers working on the old red car tracks."
Will gave a nod as he felt butterflies in his stomach. He knew the path Jack was referring to having walked it before. This time it was different. Two nights from now his job was to lead Julian to that emergency service exit from the top of California Plaza. He had to plan in his head various different ways to get down from the plaza in case something didn't go to plan. No matter what, he would have to get to that emergency access structure that was in the tree and fence line by the walk path.
Jack started walking across the street, heading south on Hill Street. Not far up the street he pointed to the building on the right, saying, "The old Subway Terminal Building. It now houses swanky apartments."
"Did you just say "swanky"?"
Glancing over at him, he said, "That is what they are."
Will smiled and shook his head. "And underneath is a dark dingy tunnel. Where does it exit out at?"
They crossed at the walk and then Jack turned right, heading west along 5th Street. Across from them was Pershing Square. Will was certain that the farmers market was open. The square was a vastly open area surrounded by palm trees and plants. It hosted outdoor events and concerts almost all year around.
Going further up 5th, they crossed over Olive and when they got to Grand Street, Jack stopped in front of the Biltmore Hotel that was on the corner of Grand and 5th.
"Here," Jack said, "is where we'll come out."
Will looked up at the tall historic hotel and said, "The Biltmore?"
Jack looked over at him and asked, "This is where the Caplan Awards will be held this Friday night, correct?"
"Yeah. I'm... surprised you remembered. It did say I can bring a plus one."
"Black tie. I'm going to have to get my tux pressed."
He felt himself smile. He liked that he didn't even have to ask. Jack already decided he was going to be his plus one.
"Hungry?" Jack asked.
"Always."
Jack started to head inside the hotel and Will stared after him. Was he? He was. Will followed Jack into the Biltmore.
The Biltmore Hotel was as extravagant and amazing as he thought it'd be. There were murals, marble fountains, lead crystal chandeliers, and bronze for days. Bronze everything. It was beautiful. It was no wonder they hosted Oscar banquets and Grammy Awards after parties there. Jack didn't head to the hotel's restaurant but through the halls that lead to the actual kitchen area. Will had no idea what he was thinking, but he wasn't about to argue.
"Excuse me, sir," a man said as he approached. "Guests aren't allowed in the kitchen."
Jack pulled out a wallet and flipped it open for the hotel manager to see. "We're with security."
The man, Rigal, suddenly straightened as he apologized. "Forgive me, Mr. Donahue. I wasn't aware Anicetus Security would be making a visit-"
"You will be hosting an awards banquet this Friday. The Caplan Awards? I'm doing a preliminary walkthrough. Is there a back way out?"
"A back way? No."
"Any other access to get in or out of the building through the kitchen?"
Will watched as Rigal stammered before saying, "There's the old employee access that we no longer use, except I have caught a few staff members taking smoke breaks-"
"Show me," Jack ordered and he was led through the kitchen to a small hallway where there was an employee's only exit door.
Will turned to Rigal as he asked, "What was this originally used for?"
"Back in the old days, some of the staff had to use the tunnels because they weren't to be seen by the guests. There is still an access door down there, but I don't think anyone can get in or out through the tunnel if that's what you're worried about."
There was a way in and out, Will thought, and that was the emergency service exit access up on the hill under Angel's Flight. He gave a nod as he peered down the steps that disappeared into darkness. He was suddenly glad he wasn't claustrophobic. Jack moved around the landing, looking around it.
"Does it lock automatically when it closes?" Jack asked as he inspected the door.
"Yes," Rigal said as he gestured around the floor. "It's a smoke pit, but we keep it closed-"
"If it was me, and I took a smoke break in there, I'd make sure the door didn't accidently shut and lock me out," Will said as he looked over at Jack, and then at Rigal. "I wouldn't be surprised if it gets left open all the time."
Rigal gapped and glanced between both of them. "That would be against procedure."
"But it happens," he stated.
"I suppose so," Rigal finally, reluctantly, admitted to him.
Jack fiddled with the handle as he looked over at him. He'd seen the quick smile that'd appeared on his face before it was gone. "Friday night, I don't want anyone accessing this door."
"Yes, sir."
Jack walked back into the hallway and shut the door behind him. "Will you be on duty?" he asked Rigal.
"I'm the night manager," was Rigal's way of answering "yes".
"Good," Jack said. "All I'll need you to do is keep the kitchen staff away from here during the awards banquet. You can see to it that maintenance blocks off the entrance to the hallway." After looking at him, he then said, "My colleague and I haven't eaten yet, you mind if-"
"Oh, no, of course not. I'll show you to the best table in the house," Rigal said before leading them back through the kitchen and out to the restaurant.
As they were walking, Jack leaned into him and said, "Good work."
That compliment filled him with such relief that he suddenly had the nerve to think they could pull this off.
Will didn't think there was such a thing as a bad table at the Biltmore, but the table he and Jack were shown to was the best seat in the restaurant. "Have you ever eaten here before?" he asked Jack once they were seated and had placed their drink order.
"No, but I did have a drink at the bar once."
He looked over his shoulder toward the bar area and then around at the luxury accommodations of the hotel's restaurant. "How'd you know that they had a stairwell that led to the tunnel?"
Jack lifted his glass of water and took a sip before saying, "I had a drink at the bar."
Will smirked and shook his head. "People talk "
"You'd be surprised what people confide to total strangers over a drink, especially in hotels." Jack regarded him a moment, then asked, "What about you?'
"I'm a reporter. Plus, I think everyone should at some point be a tourist in their own city. There are so many things to learn. Sometimes I think tourists know more about L.A. than the residents."
"There used to be a saying that no one from L.A. was from L.A.; at one point in time, everyone who lived here was a tourist."
"Yeah, I've heard that. Not anymore, I'm from here. Born and raised. You?"
Jack shook his head as he told him, "Canada."
"Seriously? And ice hockey isn't your favorite sport?"
Jack nearly laughed, saying, "There's more than ice hockey in Canada. It's why I like baseball."
"I figured you only said that because you like keeping score," he said off-handedly but saw something in Jack's eyes that told him he wasn't too far off from the truth. "It's the stats, right, more than the game itself?"
Jack downed more water than said, "I like keeping score, working the stats over in my head during the game, but I do enjoy it. It's controllable yet unpredictable at the same time. Much like life."
He stared over at him and said, "Life isn't controllable."
"It is, to a point. You can control what pitch you choose and do everything just right, but once you throw it out there, and the ball leaves your hand...it's unpredictable how fate hits it back towards you."
"You believe in fate and free will at the same time?"
"I believe in complications. I have to be ready for anything, whether it's fate or free will."
Will didn't know what to think of Jack sometimes. He honestly didn't know what he believed. It changed, oftentimes daily. "I bet you root for the Angels, not the Dodgers." Jack seemed surprised by that but didn't deny it. "You're not from here. I swear that only L.A. natives root for the Dodgers. I'm right, aren't I?"
"You're right about a lot of things." Jack left it at that as the server approached with their drinks.
Will got off the rail car at the top of Angel's Flight and looked around the plaza. At that time of day, it was busy and congested. Friday night around eight-thirty at night it would be less congested, but not completely dead. Enough to feel safe but wouldn't cause concern with innocent bystanders. Walking along the edge, he saw the stairs that were directly below that would take him to the ground. He also spotted the walk path that headed toward the fence line along Olive Street.
"How're you going to get him to follow you?"
"Fear," Will said as he eyed the path and looked toward the trees that blocked off the view of 4th Street. Jack was in those trees watching him, talking to him.
He sighed and leaned on the railing as he thought about it as he watched as Sinai started back down the slope and Olivet started up. They passed each other when they reached the middle of the rails before reaching their destinations at opposite ends. Two kids and a woman got off and continued into the plaza. They were young kids, a boy and girl not yet school age, and they were carrying shopping bags and pulling their mother along. They reminded him of himself and Amy when they were kids.
"I'll have the flash drive," he found himself saying. "I know what I can do."
Will watched the kids with their mother until they disappeared into the plaza. He followed. Going down the steps, he looked over the water court in the middle of the plaza and walked along the path and under the platform where he'd once stood. Directly in front of him were stairs that he could take to the ground that opened up into the park or took him out to the sidewalk along Olive Street. He walked around to the walk path through the park. He followed it toward the corner of Olive and 4th. As he neared the gate, he saw Jack leaning up against the emergency access structure that was in the tree line.
He was watching him with his arms crossed over his chest. As he approached, Jack asked, "How many different ways can you get here from where you were?"
"Several," Will said as he reached out and grabbed Jack's left wrist, the arm that held his watch.
Successful magicians hid the method or mechanics of their tricks by combining two essential magic techniques. The first was misdirection, focusing the target's attention on an unimportant object or action so that they didn't notice the important movements happening right before their very eyes. The second was the sly physical manipulation of objects with imperceptible movements, commonly known as "sleight of hand".
Will had perfected these techniques when he was a kid. He pulled him along the path with him and to a park bench, all the while telling him, "Two direct ways to the stairs from the top of the plaza. Three if I jump over the railing. That would be the most direct path."
Jack sat down and wrapped his left arm over his shoulders and said, "Only if you're avoiding gunfire."
Will stared at him as he asked, "Was that supposed to be a joke?" Then he realized that it was true. He really hoped Julian didn't pull a gun on him. "Once I'm down the stairs, I'll have three more options. I could jump the fence, I could use the sidewalk along Olive to get to the gate from the street and avoid the pathway all together, or I could use the path. But there are a fourth and fifth option. The stairs that lead directly from the top of the plaza to the parking garage below. From there I could use the parking garage stairs that would take me directly to the gate where the emergency access is, but it's across the platform that's out of my way and a straight shot in the open which you told me to try to avoid."
"Yes, but it's still an option. There could be too many people in front of you on the stairs and you'll need to know your other options. You said there was a fifth?"
"The elevator down, but again, it could be full or the door too slow to shut. I could be trapped."
"Make that your last, and most desperate, option. You said you would get him to follow you by use of fear. What did that mean?" Jack asked.
He smiled as he held up his left hand. Dangling from his fingers was Jack's watch. "Missing something?"
Jack frowned at him and then looked at his left wrist. "You're a thief?"
A nervous laugh rattled in his chest as he slipped the watch back on Jack's wrist. "I'm not a thief. I loved magic as a kid. Julian will want the flash drive and I'll give it to him. Once he realizes I switched it right in front of his eyes, and instead he has, say, a pen, he'll chase me."
His nervousness must have been apparent because Jack's look suddenly turned to stone, nearly too cold, as he told him, "If anything goes sideways, I'll be right there."
He believed him. He had to believe him. Leaning back into Jack's side, he rested his head on his shoulder as he watched the light from the sun finally give way to night.
Michael Vaughn's Apartment
Wednesday Evening
Sydney knocked on the door of the address she'd been given and waited. There was a noise behind the door and then it was pulled open and Michael Vaughn was staring at her.
He gestured for her to come inside and once she was in the middle of the living room, he said, "Thank you for coming."
She was immediately surprised to hear his normal voice. Vaughn had dropped the act of being Henri Thomas.
"I'm-How can I explain this…" he said as he looked at the floor. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He was still a spy working for a terrorist organization. Looking up, he told her, "I'm with an intelligence division and when we met at the consulate, I was working, pretending to be someone I wasn't. I hadn't expected to see you again, but then...there you were, and I-"
She cut him off as she said, "It's okay. I understand."
He stared at her in confusion as he asked, "You do?"
Sydney gave a nod and then made a decision of her own. She didn't like playing this game with him either. Looking around, she said, "What is that? I don't like bugs. Do you have a bug killer?"
Michael stared at her in confusion for a moment before his whole demeanor suddenly changed. "Yes. Of course." But something must have bothered him because he grabbed the television remote and turned the volume up loud.
Once the noise of the hockey game on the TV drowned out their voices, she told him, "I'm not Kate Jones, and I already knew you weren't Henri Thomas." Michael stared at her and she stared at him. Panic filled his eyes and she raised her hands in front of her. "Don't panic. I'm not associated with-"
"Then who are you associated with?" he asked as he confronted her.
Taking a breath, she told him, "The C.I.A.. Same as you. You're SD-6? Covert subdivision." She wanted so badly to tell him that SD-6 was the Alliance, but now wasn't the time. She needed him to believe that right now they were on the same side. "I couldn't say anything either because of your division's secrecy. It was fun though, wasn't it?" she tried to joke to lighten the mood.
Michael still seemed highly suspicious. "Show me."
He didn't have to elaborate. Sydney reached into her purse pocket and pulled out her State Department ID. Michael wouldn't have one, but he would recognize her ID as C.I.A.. He took it from her and let out a breath as he finally relaxed.
As he handed it back to her, he said, "Sydney Sloane? You're Arvin Sloane's daughter?"
"Yes," she said as she took her ID away. "I need you to do me a favor and never tell my father who I work for. He doesn't know."
"But, you're both with the agency."
Sydney smiled slightly as she stepped up to him and placed her hand on his arm. "He would flip out. Please. Believe me, Michael, It's best if he doesn't know. Same with Jack Donahue."
He looked down at her hand as it rubbed his arm. Giving a nod, he said, "If that's what you want, I'll honor it."
"Thank you," she said as she dropped her hand and stepped away. Looking around, she spotted the books on the coffee table. "Are those the books?"
Michael touched his arm where she'd had her hand as he said, "Yeah, they, um...They were in Jack Donahue's file. Titles, editions, author name. I had a friend track them down for me."
Sydney wrinkled her head in confusion as she noticed the file sticking out from under the coffee table. She picked up a book and flipped it open as she asked, "What file?"
"His C.I.A. file. If you know about me then you know about Jack being C.I.A. too."
"You have his file?" Sydney flipped through the book and didn't see anything. Then she went back to the title page and saw the inscription.
"Laura, all my love forever and a day, Jack."
Laura? Why was that name so familiar? Sydney dropped the book back to the coffee table as Michael pulled out the C.I.A, file from under it. Then he proceeded to tell her everything he suspected of Jack Donahue.
SD-6 Agent Michael Vaughn believed Jack to be a double agent, working for the Alliance or the Tirad. He had been suspicious of him for months but he couldn't find any evidence supporting his hunch in the C.I.A. file. The books were a lead to an FBI Agent named Bentley Calder who had died in 1981 in a car accident in Maryland.
"I'm thinking Jack was KGB. They used books as cipher texts to hide coded messages. There's something in here that we need to find. It's either in the text itself or-" he stopped and then picked up the book. He flipped it open and held a page out and turned it toward the light. "Invisible ink. I read that they would use invisible ink-"
"And Laura is, or was...Jack's KGB handler?"
"Or his wife," Michael said.
Sydney sat down in the chair and rubbed her head. Laura and Jack…?
She was in pain. It hurt to move as she cried out, "Daddy!"
The trees above her were replaced by her dad's face as his worried eyes stared down at her. Picking her up, he held her close to his chest as he started to run. All the while, he kept her calm as he told her everything would be okay. He had her.
She buried her face in his shirt as he carried her, running and jogging, before he slowed to walk up and out of the trees. The pain in her leg hadn't gone away, but he made it better.
Looking up, she saw the sunlight shining down on them, on her dad, as he yelled out, "Laura! Get to the car!"
"Sydney?"
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jerked away as she stared up at Michael. His blue eyes were also worried but for a different reason. "Sorry, I, um, I have a headache. It's been a long day. You said that there was a car crash for the FBI Agent who was investigating Jack in Maryland?"
"That's right. I searched the databases and there was no police report online. I'm thinking if it was a small town, the report would be in archives, packed in a box somewhere."
"There was no newspaper article?" she asked. An FBI agent's death in a car crash would've been news.
"None that I found. A death certificate, that's it." Michael walked away, going into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of water and pain reliever. "For the headache."
She thanked him as she took both bottles from him. She really did have a headache. Downing two pills with the water, she put the pain reliever bottle down on the table and picked up the book again. Opening it, she re-read the inscription.
"What're you thinking?"
Letting out a sigh, she told him, "I think I need to talk to Jack."
"You can't tell him-"
"I won't," she reassured him.
What she had to talk to him about had nothing to do with this. Or, did it? Was that the reason he had to go away when she was a child? Was that why her mother, Laura, wasn't around? Had Jack been a KGB spy? And now he was Alliance. Did her dad know? She felt sick and tired. But mostly, angry. She was so angry.
"Are you planning on going to Maryland to see if you can find the police report?"
Michael nodded, telling her, "I was planning on leaving tomorrow after I get off work. I requested Friday off."
"Good," she said as she stood and handed him the book back. "I'm going with you."
Jack's Apartment
Wednesday Evening
He tossed the garlic bread into the oven and set the timer as the spaghetti noodles were close to getting done. The sauce was turned on low as it started to bubble.
"So, is this Gordon Lightfoot guy your favorite singer-songwriter? You have an entire stack of his albums?"
Jack grabbed a hand towel and walked into the living room as he wiped his hands off. Will was standing in front of the record player and reading over the song titles of an album.
Will glanced over his shoulder and smiled at him as he said, "This is one suave looking guy. Can you grow a mustache like that?"
He saw the cover of the East of Midnight album and said, "I hope you're kidding about the mustache."
Reaching up to rub at his own face, Will said, "I like facial hair."
"And you have enough of it for both of us." He took the album from his hand and sat it down. "That's not my favorite; there are only three to four good songs and the rest aren't….They just aren't. It was the '80's and he ventured into Adult Contemporary and added synthesizers, electric organs, and the saxophone."
"What's wrong with that?"
Jack stared at Will as he tossed the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up another album, Gord's Gold. He slid the record out of the sleeve and flipped it over to side B. "Nothing, as long as it's not on a Gordon Lightfoot album." He put it on the record player and dropped the needle. He headed back into the kitchen as the music started playing.
Will followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as he sipped the beer. "This is music you sit and have a beer with."
He glanced over at him and picked up his own bottle and clicked it against Will's before they both took a drink. He thought it would be odd and uncomfortable to have someone else in his apartment, but he almost brought back a sense of normalcy to his otherwise chaotic life. There were no pretenses, no deceit, and no uncertainty. Just him and Will, and food and beer and music. Laughter and longing looks that sent him back to a time when he actually thought those things were all he needed.
Will leaned in for a kiss as the timer started beeping and he smiled into the kiss. "I'll help," he said as he sat the beer bottle down. "Where's the strainer?"
"The colander? Cabinet at your knees." He pulled the garlic bread out of the oven and turned it and the burners off.
"You say potato and I say...It's not here."
Looking down, he frowned as he thought back to where it could be. "Check the dishwasher."
Will checked and said, "Nope."
"If I had a tennis racket I'd give you that to use," he said as he opened the other bottom cabinet at Will's knees and pulled out the colander. Handing it to him, he said, "The other cabinet."
Will took it as he asked, "Was that a movie reference? What you said about the tennis racket?"
As he pulled down two plates, he told him, "'The Apartment'. One of my favorite movies; possibly my favorite, if I had a favorite."
"So, question. Would you say that one of your favorite movie is 'Pretty Woman'?
He looked over at Will like he'd lost his mind. "Why on earth would 'Pretty Woman' be one of my favorite movies?"
Will grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him into a kiss. Once he let go, he said, "I think I love you."
"I don't know whether to be honored or mortified that it was my movie preferences that made you feel that way."
Will was quiet as he strained out the pasta and handed it to him. Then he asked, "You're okay with that?" Jack looked at him and then around as he tried to figure out what it was he was "okay" with. "That I said those words?" he clarified.
When it finally hit him what Will was talking about, Jack shook his head as he told him, "I have so many things in life to be afraid of, love is not one of them."
The way Will sighed in relief caught his heart by surprise. He was so glad Will's fear wasn't getting the best of him. Despite what he'd told him last night, he wasn't sure how Will would be today. Last night they'd been caught in a moment and oftentimes when those moments went away, fear took over. So far, Will was still trusting him.
He turned back to preparing the plates and as he dished out the food, he listened as Will went on about how it was so hard to find someone to connect with over his love of movies, especially older movies. It was amusing to listen to as he carried the plates to the dining table next to the window. The table was small and thin, only seating, comfortably, two people. Jack figured he'd be the only one eating at it so he didn't bother getting anything bigger.
Will carried the plate of garlic bread and the beer bottles and as he sat down, said, "I know this song."
Jack focused on the song playing, "Sundown", and said, "It was a hit in the mid '70's."
"That's it. I think I was conceived during this song." Jack nearly choked on the beer as Will laughed. As he started laughing once he regained his ability to breathe, Will told him, "I like that."
"Like to see me choke to death?" he asked.
"Seeing you laugh. You don't do enough of it."
Jack glanced up at him. Will was right. He didn't venture down the dark path of thoughts that informed him of why that was, at the moment, he didn't want to think about the past. He didn't want to think about his present. His mind was always working through something, even when he was doing meaningless tasks there was always a problem in the back of his head that required his attention.
Tonight, he didn't want to think at all. It'd been a long day. But, he did find himself saying, "Nature of my job. I always have a lot going on." Will dug into the food, but Jack saw his apprehension. He'd wanted to say something. "Will, I'm...rusty when it comes to this type of conversation. But, as long as you're open, I'll be open."
Will looked up at him and after another sip of the beer, he said, "I saw you today and yesterday. The job you. The way you handled everything. Your quick thinking and confidence...If what you do every day is half of what I saw, I can see why it might be hard for you to relax and take it easy. You weren't joking about how I might have to avoid gunfire, were you?"
Jack stared over at him as he picked up his beer. "No, I would never joke about gunfire. You can not underestimate Julian Sark."
Will gave a nod and went back to eating. He let him grow quiet as he went back to eating. Jack thought that was the end of the discussion until he heard him say, "Can you teach me how to use a gun?"
Without hesitation, he told him, "We'll go tomorrow."
"Thank you."
He watched as Will's hand shook slightly as he picked up his drink and took a gulp. Getting up, he grabbed the whiskey bottle off the counter and two shot glasses. Setting one in front of Will, he filled it and then filled his own. Will grabbed the glass and immediately downed the shot of whiskey before taking a sip of the beer as a chaser. Jack did the same.
They finished eating in silence and then headed into the living room. Will had grabbed his hand and was pulling him to the couch where he pushed him onto the cushions and then straddled his legs. He wasn't complaining as Will attacked his mouth, his neck, and was moving lower when there was a knock at the door.
He softly cursed as Will openly, and loudly, said, "Fuck! Who's knocking at your door at ten o'clock at night?"
"Someone who doesn't value their life," he told him as he stood, making Will do the same. Giving him a kiss, he told him, "Why don't you go to the bedroom. This will only take a minute."
Will let go of his hand and started for the kitchen. The bedroom and bathroom were both on the other side of it. Jack went to the door, grabbing his gun off the table along the way, and checked the peephole. He nearly froze at the sight of Sydney.
Yanking open the door, he stared at her and then checked the hallway. Looking back at her, he noticed she was trying to control her emotions. He could always tell when she was struggling. It hurt his heart to see her on the brink of tears. "What happened?"
She didn't say anything as she walked by him into the living room. This was the first night he'd had anyone in his apartment, and now the two people he loved were there at the same time. One in tears and the other-...
"I'll be right back," he said as he put his gun away and headed to the bedroom. At seeing Will pulling his shirt off, he took a moment to look him over before saying, "It's going to be longer than a minute."
"I certainly hope so," Will said before he realized what he meant. A blush crept up his neck and face as he said, "Oh. Who's here?"
"Sydney Sloane. She's my-"
"Sydney's here?" Will asked in surprise.
Will knew Sydney? Jack stared over at him in confusion as he said, "You didn't tell me you knew...my boss's daughter."
"I didn't think I had too, and besides, I would think you would appreciate me not talking to all my friends about us. Francie was an exception. Syd, when I found out her father was the owner of Anicetus Security, I decided not to tell her. You seem like a private guy. I didn't want to announce our relationship to her until I knew how, uh, you know, how serious it was."
Jack nearly smiled at that new information. "That was considerate of you."
"I have my moments," Will said as he pulled his shirt back on. "I can stay in here if you want privacy."
"I don't know how long-"
"It's okay. You have the TV in here, and your DVD's. I promise I won't fall asleep waiting," he said as he climbed into the queen sized bed. "On second thought-" Will pulled a pillow under his head and closed his eyes, "I might."
Jack watched him a moment and then went back out into the living room. He stopped in the entryway between the kitchen and living room and watched as Sydney walked around the room as Gordon Lightfoot's 'If You Could Read My Mind' started playing.
She was looking at all his books, the vinyl's that Will had been shuffling through, and then she went over to the piano that was still covered. He hadn't bothered uncovering it, or removing all the books that were piled on top of it. As she pulled the edge of the cover off it, he leaned against the wall and watched as she tapped a key and then another.
"Another one!"
"Another one," he said as Sydney climbed into his lap.
He'd been gone all week on a mission and had missed her first recital. Another "first" he'd never get back. She had shown him the song she'd played, Mozart's "A Little Night Music", which she'd been practicing for the past two months to get right. She'd performed it to perfection, though a little slower than the actual version, but she got through it. Which was impressive seeing how it was nearly seven minutes long.
"How about Bach, "Prelude in C Major"? I'll play the notes on the right hand, you do the ones on the left," he told her as they placed their fingers on the keys and started playing.
"You get the hard part, Daddy. I only have two notes."
He smiled as he asked, "You want to know a secret?" She looked up at him but was still able to play the notes without looking. "Those two notes are the hard part for Daddy."
She laughed and said, "No way. You're lying."
He missed that laugh. "I am not. I can't play with two hands, that's why I need you."
He didn't think any truer words had ever been spoken. It wasn't until she entered his life that he realized how much he needed her. It should have been the other way around seeing how he was her father. She would need him to be there to teach and guide her, to keep her safe and protected. But he needed her to remind him of all the good things. Innocence, love, happiness and a reason to keep hope alive inside despite all the bad things he had to do.
He kept her safe, but she was the one saving him.
Coming out of his memory, he saw Sydney looking over at him. The tears were gone and she had pulled herself together. He didn't even ask how she knew where he lived. She was his daughter.
"I'm sorry to interrupt-"
"It's okay," he said as he looked around and noticed the signs that he had company.
Two different sized pairs of shoes by the door, his suit jacket laid over the chair and another over the back of the couch, both with ties stuffed in the pockets. The music and the aroma of the dinner he'd made still in the air. Going over the record player, he turned it off. That song was normally hard for him to listen to, but with Sydney there, it felt like the worst kind of torture.
"It's very...spartan. Very you."
Jack looked around the apartment but didn't smile. It wasn't the home he wanted, but it was all he had. Besides his yacht. He was suddenly glad he had put away the framed picture he had of her, or else she might have realized it was her in it. He wasn't ready to talk to Will about his past life yet, if he ever would be.
"You play?"
He eyed the piano and then gave a nod. She raised her eyes in anticipation. "Now?"
She scooted over on the bench and shrugged, saying, "Why not?"
Jack hesitated a moment before walking over and sitting down next to her. His heart pounded in his chest as his lungs caught. He closed his eyes then looked over at her, asking, "Sydney, why are you here? Is it your dad-"
"He's okay. I-" she stopped and looked away.
She was keeping herself from saying something to him. Something she didn't want to tell him. Whatever it was, it angered her. God, she looked just like her mother. Turning to face him and the pain he saw nearly broke him. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, to pull her into a hug, and tell her everything would be okay, but he couldn't.
"I had a bad day," she said and tried to shake it off. "I used to talk to my mom about my bad days, and now that she's gone...I just wanted the company."
It was a lie. She had lied to him. Jack stared at her and nodded anyway. In his chest he felt his heart twist at the lies and fought hard not to feel it digging in deeper. She could ruin him so quickly, that it was impossible for him to defend against it.
Dropping his head, he stared at the piano keys and said, "I have company. If you want to talk...It'll have to wait until some other time." His words were cold and distant in his head.
He could've yelled, but he felt too numb. Too damn tired and old to suddenly lash out at her lies. It would've been horribly hypocritical of him. He was her father and he lied to her every day.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I just needed to see you, I think. Needed to see…" she trailed off as she stood and he followed.
Walking her to the door, he didn't want her to leave thinking he didn't care. He cared. He loved her. "Sydney…" his words died as he realized he didn't know what else to say.
"It's okay, Jack," she said as she looked up at him. Her eyes were his eyes and they were filled with so much pain. And under that pain he saw the real feelings she was masking: hate. She hated him.
Jack stood at the door for a long moment after she left. His mind racing through all the possibilities as to why Sydney hated him. Only one scenario came to mind that scared him deeply.
She knew.
He turned and headed into the bedroom, feeling raw and hollow. At seeing Will sitting up in his bed and watching a movie, he removed his shirt and pants and climbed in under the covers. He wrapped his arms around Will's waist and laid his head against his chest.
Will didn't say anything as he ran his fingers through his hair.
Sydney knew, he thought again as he closed his eyes. She knew he was her father.
TBC...
