"Off the Books"

It was not normalcy, but it was a nice illusion. Watching hockey with Weiss was a common occurrence. No amount of beer and pizza could make him forget, but it seemed that it was a normal thing to do anyway.

"Mike, I wanted to say I was sorry about earlier," Weiss began, "I didn't mean to sound like you couldn't do your job. Obviously, you can; I'm just worried about you. And I hate that you make me say this stuff out loud."

"Sorry about that," he feigned, "I think you were right though. Just because I can do my job, doesn't mean I'm the best person to be doing it right now."

"Look, whatever I said before, you know you're one of the best at what you do."

"And you know how I feel about this job. I would gladly sacrifice my life for this country. But there is a limit to what a person can give. I think I just need some time away to process everything."

"Whaddo you mean? You thinking about taking some time off?"

"Maybe. Maybe a lot of time off."

"Like how much time?"

"Maybe enough to travel. Visit some friends. Be a tourist."

"A tourist? With the khaki shorts and the Nikon?" Weiss asked in disbelief. "Dude, maybe you should talk to Barnett."

"I have."

"And she told you to go on a safari?"

"What does it matter what she said? This is what I want to do."

"Okay, but I really don't know if isolating yourself from everyone is the best way to deal with this."

"I'm not isolating myself. I told you I was going to visit friends."

"Friends who don't know Sydney."

"You're right. They didn't know Sydney. Which means, maybe I won't have to have this conversation with them," he stated in warning. "I will deal with Sydney, but I need to do it on my own terms. I can't stand the way people look at me—people I don't even know. Hell, even Jack gives me these, sort of, sad-eyed pity stares."

"Look, we don't have to talk about it, but I just think it's a good idea to have people around that know what's going on with you."

"I know where to find you," he answered more softly. "I know you're trying to help. Thank you. And I'm not trying to run away. I just think I need some time."

"All right, fine. But do me a favor. Keep Barnett's number too. 'Cause I really hate being the sensitive guy."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

Barnett had told him exactly what he would have expected her to tell him. Sydney was gone, and he needed to work toward accepting it and moving on as well as he could. Move on to what? She didn't know that his entire life for the last 27 years had been about Sydney. He knew that he hadn't always been the best father. A horrible father, would be a more accurate description. But he had loved her. And now that he had her in his life he would not let go so easily. Dead? Maybe she was. But there was too much surrounding her death to make someone in his line of work instantly suspicious.

He stood a few feet from the crashing waves. The sea was gentle today, the way he preferred it. Jack had never been a great lover of the ocean, but Sydney was. If she was indeed dead, this was the last place he had physically been with her. Was it sentimental and foolish to come here? Perhaps. But perhaps it was the only place to start. If she really was dead, and he really did need to move on, the only way to do that was to dispel all suspicion from his mind. Whatever other failings he had, Jack knew himself.

Looking down to the waves that were sweeping ever closer to his feet he noticed something that didn't seem to belong. Picking up the circle and wiping it off, he identified a ring. Someone will be missing this, he thought, or not missing it. Turning the ring over, he read a simple inscription, "Always on your side ~ MCV." He had never been a religious or a mystical man, but somehow the simple words spoke to him, encouraging him to finish what he had started. He hadn't always acted in Sydney's best interest. He hadn't always been on her side. But now he would. If he was proved wrong, there was plenty of time for him to move on, but for now, he was the only one fighting for her, and there was no way he could give up until every lead had gone cold.

"Agent Vaughn, how can I help you?" Kendall asked, seemingly annoyed by Vaughn's presence in his office. He continued shuffling papers and only fleetingly looked up.

"I was wondering if I could request an extended leave of absence. Given everything that's happened in the past week, I'm not sure that I'm the best person to be doing this job, and I'm not the kind of person that's going to stay in position for the sake of my career over the safety of this country and its agents."

"Agent Vaughn, if you want some time off, just say so. You don't have to feed me a line," he answered finally submitting to eye contact.

"It's not a line, sir."

"Whether it is or isn't, your request is granted. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't been in here sooner. Pick up your official forms from personnel and turn them so they can fill the spot till you get back." Kendall returned his attention to the files on his desk.

"Thank you, sir." Vaughn's head dropped and he turned to go.

"Oh, and Vaughn? Anything you're working on needs to be wrapped up or handed off quickly. NSA is coming in to do a deposition of all our agents on Derevko. I imagine that will take up a good deal of the next week. You can go after that."

"Thanks."