Ten Years Later

"Chloe, where the hell are you taking me?" Jack asked again.

She rolled her eyes. "When we get there, you'll understand."

Jack looked Chloe up and down, trying to gauge a subtle reaction from her. She seemed nervous, even beneath the heavy eyeliner and dark hair. He wondered what had prompted her to make such a change. Then again, it had been a while since Jack last saw her. A lot can happen in six years. In his case, six years had meant countless sleepless nights, not trusting anybody, while pushing away the few people he could still rely on, Chloe included.

For ten years, Jack had been haunted by that day in DC, the day he'd seen Tony for the first time in years after presuming him to be dead, after mourning him, after blaming himself for Michelle's death. More specifically, he was haunted by their final interaction before Emerson had clocked him over the head. It hadn't taken too much critical thinking to deduce that he and Tony had been something more than just allies or brothers, as Emerson had put it. But most of all, something Emerson had said that day had replayed in Jack's mind non-stop ever since. It was a phrase he'd tried to interpret in every possible way, and he had never found an explanation he was satisfied with.

"I'm doing this for him, you don't understand."

Jack had no idea who Emerson had been referring to. It couldn't have just been some other member of his crew, that made no sense. Whoever 'him' was had to be incredibly important to Tony and Emerson, important enough that Tony had been willing to point his weapon at him to protect him.

He cast his mind back to Chloe, knowing now was not the time to start up that familiar spiral again. Jack wondered how Chloe had coped with the grief of losing her husband and son. It had been sudden. A car accident while they were coming home from Prescott's soccer practice. It was an immeasurable pain, one he knew all too well. Seeing how much she'd changed only made him feel guiltier that he hadn't reached out to her earlier. However, it wasn't one-sided; she'd pushed him away too. Chloe had been the one to disappear without a trace not long after Morris and Prescott had died. Jack had wanted to support her and help her investigate, in case it hadn't been as much of an 'accident' as the police had made it out to be.

After what seemed like forever of aimlessly driving through the outer suburbs of London, they came upon a cozy-looking, secluded family-sized home. It seemed so peaceful in contrast to the dense urban surroundings and noise pollution of the inner city where her apartment had been. Still, it did nothing to subdue the frustration and anger in his chest. He still had no idea where Chloe had taken him, despite her claim that he would understand, and frankly, he still wasn't quite sure why she was even in London in the first place. Chloe had actually hidden herself so well that Jack had needed to use the FBI to find her.

"Jack?"

He sighed. "Yeah, it's me, Renee."

The tone of her voice changed immediately. "Look, we agreed this is what's best for us-"

"I know, I know. But this isn't about him." Jack defended. "I know that me being hung up on Tony's disappearance is why we ended things. I just need a favour."

"What?"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "I need your help to find Chloe O'Brian."

"Chloe O'Brian? You're asking me to help track down your friend?"

"I'm worried about her. You know she disappeared after the funeral."

She could hear the sadness in his voice, feeling a little bad as she thought about how lonely he must be, knowing it was partially her fault. But Larry was right. He was chasing a ghost. Tony Almeida could be anywhere, assuming that he was even still alive. And after what Tony had done, hurting both her and Jack, she could understand why Larry was so angry that one, Jack was still obsessed with finding him, and two, she was helping. Still, though, Renee missed him. And she knew Larry did too. The three of them had had something special together. There was a deep trust and sense of understanding between them. But they all knew they would never be able to move forward if Jack didn't let go of his past.

"I'll…I'll see what I can find."

"Thank you," Jack said earnestly.

They got out and walked towards the front door. Jack could hear birds chirping and a dog barking somewhere. He stood behind Chloe, feeling the cold wind brush against his skin.

"Jack, just…" She turned to him, biting her lip. "Promise me you won't overreact."

"Overreact?"

Before she could respond, the door opened with a slight creak. Jack's eyes widened when he met Tony's. He almost couldn't recognise him. His hair was longer now, greyer too. Tony wore a leather jacket similar to the one from that day. But there was something about his demeanour that seemed...lighter, almost. Happy. He seemed happy. But the slight guilt in his expression was all too familiar.

In one swift motion, he pushed past Chloe and grabbed Tony by the collar. He used one hand to shove Tony against the nearest wall inside the house, ignoring Chloe's protests, and the other drew his gun, pushing the barrel under his chin.

"You've got about five seconds to explain what the hell is going on." Maintaining the strength of his grip, he twisted to look at Chloe. "Both of you."

Tony seemed somewhat unfazed, but his expression flickered to one of worry as Jack heard soft footsteps behind them.

"…Dad?"

As if Jack didn't already feel like he was in the dark, he was stunned to see the teenage boy standing behind him. He was shaking a little, probably because he could see the gun in his hands. The boy had dark, curly hair with strikingly familiar brown eyes. Jack guessed he was about fifteen, sixteen, maybe. Jack had never seen him before in his life, but there was something in the way he was looking at him that gave him deja vu, as though he knew him somehow. It became a new question on the list that had grown exponentially since he'd found out Chloe was living in London.

But clearly, Tony had the answers.

Tony looked back at him, who now seemed to consider the weapon pointed at him as a nuisance rather than a threat.

"You mind putting the gun away in front of my kid, Jack?"