In the morning, she acts as if her breakdown the previous night never happened. Jack watches warily as they sit down to breakfast. She slides a plate of toast across the table and gives him a sly wink.

He smiles in return.

"Coffee, Mr. Bristow?" She reaches for the pot.

"Yes, Mrs. Bristow." They'd played this game as newlyweds, enjoying the novelty of being married and sharing the same name. Judging from the look on Irina's face, she finds it as strange now as she did then.

"You know," her tone is casual, "we never got around to getting that divorce."

He nods, accepting the cup of coffee she holds out to him. "I know."

"Think of all that paperwork."

"I hate paperwork."

"Much too complicated."

His smile widens. "Come here, Mrs. Bristow."

Slowly, she stands and walks around to his side of the table. "Was there something else you wanted?"

He pulls her onto his lap, keeping her in place with an arm around her waist. This had been part of the game too, at least until Sydney was old enough to eat breakfast with them.

"A kiss," he says, and his lips move to her neck. "Mmm. Delicious."

She laughs. "Some things never change."

"If I wanted to have you for breakfast, what are the chances of your staff wandering in?" His hand slips under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips skimming the small of her back.

"They know better."

"Good."

All they do for a while is kiss; it's been far too long since Jack has been able to enjoy mornings like this. And there is a constant cloud in his thoughts, a reminder that this idyll cannot last forever.

"Is this a bad time?"

They break apart to look at Sydney, standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

"You're early," Jack says.

Sydney gives an unrepentant grin; her gaze is fixed on Irina. "Mom."

"Hello, sweetheart." Irina rises to her feet, slightly unsteady. "I'm glad you're here."

Sydney doesn't hesitate. She crosses the room and envelopes her mother in a hug. "It's good to see you."

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Jack asks, picking up a piece of the previously abandoned toast.

Sydney grimaces. "No. I'll eat later. The boat ride was pretty bumpy."

"Coffee?" Irina asks. She's already opening one of the cupboards for another mug.

"No, thanks. That juice looks good, though." Sydney sits opposite Jack. "Dad mentioned you were on an island; he didn't say anything about how perfect this place is. How long have you been here?"

"Since Sevogda." Irina sits next to Sydney. "Look at you, you're practically glowing. How are the wedding plans coming along?"

Sydney fidgets with the ring on her finger. "We've been a little distracted. Nadia."

Irina nods, her expression growing serious.

Jack clears his throat, trying to break the mood. "How was the trip here?"

"Fine. I have to admit I was surprised to get your call, Dad. I didn't think you and Mom – well, you know."

"Sydney, it's complicated—" Jack begins.

"Later." Irina's smile is forced. "I'll explain everything later."

"Dad, since when does Mom take afternoon naps?"

Irina has gone upstairs, leaving Jack and Sydney sitting at a table next to the pool. Jack keeps his expression blank as he turns to look at his daughter.

"Is she sick?"

"Sweetheart—" He doesn't know how to break this to her. "Sydney, your mother was tortured for a very long time. It – it wasn't without an effect."

Sydney pales. "What's wrong?"

"There was damage to her heart."

Sydney looks away, and she's silent for a long time. When she looks back at Jack, her eyes are shining with unshed tears. "But there must be medication or treatment or something, right?"

He's had this discussion with Irina plenty of times already. "Nothing that can permanently heal her. She – she doesn't want to prolong – anything."

"You're just going to let her die?"

"Sydney—"

"How can you sit here as if nothing's wrong?"

"This is difficult for me too—"

"Not really, you've had plenty of practice watching Mom die."

The barb hits home. Jack looks away, out over the pool. It's a mistake, as the ripples remind him of another pool. He stands. "I think I'll take a nap, too."

Irina's on his side of the bed when he reaches the bedroom. He studies her for a moment, then lies down next to her.

Sydney's wrong; watching Irina die is the hardest thing in the world.

She stirs, moulds herself against him, her movements lazy and cat-like as she opens her eyes.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I don't mind." She smiles and rubs her foot along his calf. His desire for her is instant and he slips a hand between her shirt and the small of her back. Her eyes darken and she arches her body against him. "I'm glad."

"I love you." His fingers trace meaningless patterns on her skin.

Her eyes fill with tears.

Her side of the bed is empty when he wakes from his nap. He slides out of bed and takes a fresh set of clothes from the closet; what he's wearing now is far too wrinkled. He heads for the kitchen, then stops just outside the entrance and listens to Irina and Sydney.

"—I hate this, Mom." Sydney's voice is thick with unshed tears.

"I wish things were different too." Irina sounds resigned. Jack leans against the wall and closes his eyes.

"I haven't told Dad yet, but I'm pregnant." His eyes fly open.

"Oh, sweetheart."

"I've only known for a couple of days." There's a pause, and when Sydney speaks again Jack can tell she's given in to the tears. "I want my baby to know her grandmother."

"Sydney—"

There's a long silence. Jack's own cheeks are wet with tears and there's a tightness in his chest that he's all too familiar with. This is grief; deep, raw and all-consuming. He doesn't want this.

"I'm sorry." Sydney again. "I told myself I wasn't going to cry."

"Never be sorry for your tears, Sydney."

"Can I stay here?"

"Of course."

"I love you, Mom."

"Sweetheart."

Jack's heart is breaking.

"I love you, too. I've always loved you," Irina says, and Jack can't bear to listen to more.

He manages to make it out to the pool, but he can't look at the water without thinking of that night, and he stumbles down the path to the beach, falling to his knees in the sand. It's still warm from the sun.

He remembers a young man and an equally young woman smile at each other; the world had stopped and there was only her. In all the years since, there has been only her. It doesn't matter that he first loved her under a different name. Nothing matters.

Irina, he thinks. Irina, Irina.

Time passes; he doesn't know how much, but the sun is low on the horizon by the time he gets to his feet. He walks to the water's edge and rinses his tears. When he turns to return to the house, Sydney is standing at the foot of the path. She's pale; her eyes seem too large in her face. Jack doesn't immediately realize that her expression is one of concern, and when he does, he wonders how long she's been there.

"Mom's looking for you." She looks away, out over the ocean.

"Thanks."

"Dad, I – I'm sorry for what I said earlier." She brushes her hair behind her ear, just like her mother. "I didn't know."

He nods.

"I was wondering—" She steps towards him. "There was something I wanted to ask you."

"Okay."

She speaks slowly, choosing her words carefully, and Jack listens until she's finished. She bites her lower lip while she watches him, waiting for him to make a decision.

He thought he had no tears left; he was wrong. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Sydney."

She smiles, and she's so beautiful and it's her mother's smile and Jack can't breathe. Sydney hugs him and he holds her close; this is his baby girl, all grown up and it seems like just yesterday that she was being cradled in his arms as he crooned a lullaby.

It takes three days to arrange everything. After lunch on the third day, Jack glances at Sydney, then reaches for Irina's hand. "Nap time," he says.

Irina shakes her head. "Not yet."

"You need to rest."

She frowns. "Stop babying me, Jack."

"I'm not babying you!" He looks at Sydney again, who is unsuccessfully trying to hide her smile. He lowers his voice. "We don't have to sleep."

Sydney shakes her head, her cheeks turning red. Jack doesn't care that he's embarrassed his daughter; from the look on Irina's face, she seems amused.

"Oh, in that case." She stands. "Sydney, your father and I are going to take a nap."

Sydney waves her hand. "I don't need to know the details."

Irina laughs all the way to the bedroom.

Later, lying tangled in the bedsheets, Irina places her hand over the area above Jack's heart. "I don't want to be buried," she says.

Jack covers her hand with his; he cannot speak.

"It's silly, but I can't bear the thought of being stuck under all that earth." She smiles. "Cremate me, Jack. Scatter my ashes in the sea, or let me fly away on a breeze."

His hand curls around her wrist and he feels her pulse, proof that she's still alive. For now.

He kisses her then, gently. There are some truths that cannot be expressed through words; this is the only truth that matters to either of them now.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" Sydney asks, looking up from the book she's reading.

Irina smiles. "Yes."

Sydney closes the book and stands up. To Jack, she says, "They're here."

"Who's here?" Irina asks.

"Jack Bristow!" Jack turns to look at the man who's just entered the living room. "It's been too long."

Jack nods. "Yes, it has. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Sean, I'd like you to meet my wife, Irina. Irina, this is Father Sean O'Regan."

Irina greets the newcomer with barely veiled curiosity. "How do you know Jack?"

"I've helped your husband get out of a few tight spots over the last couple of decades," Sean says.

Jack laughs. "I seem to recall it being the other way around."

Sean shrugs. "Are you accusing a priest of lying?"

"It wouldn't be the worst thing I've known you to do."

Irina watches the exchange, a smile playing on her lips. Sydney hooks her arm through Irina's and says, "From the Alliance days. Father O'Regan's been telling me some interesting things about Dad."

"Don't believe a word he tells you," Jack says.

"I thought you said 'they'." Irina looks at Sydney.

"Yeah. Vaughn's out by the pool."

"Vaughn?"

"We're getting married tonight. On the beach."

"Oh." Irina says nothing else. Then she hugs Sydney. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't say anything, Mom, or I'll just cry again, and then the photos will be terrible."

"You did this," Irina says to Jack.

"It was your daughter's idea."

She holds out her hand for him, and for the first time in decades they share a family hug.