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Disclaimer: The Alias show's creators, cast and crew get all the credit for this. I just like playing with the characters. Classification / Genre: Jack in all his Spy Daddy glory. Summary: What's Jack up to while Syd's with Spy Momski? Rating: PG Jack sat waiting in the dimly lit bar. "Scotch," he called sullenly to the bartender. "Sure." He had been there for twenty minutes and his contact still hadn't shown. Where the hell is he? Contacting sources had always been one point of his job he absolutely hated. There were so many ways that the situation could go wrong. Even for veteran agents, meeting the person on the other end of the line was thin ice, and he had no back up. Devlin along with the rest of the CIA still suspected him as the mole.
There's a man that leads a life of danger He detested that song, and yet it seemed to play every time he entered this hellhole. Aesthetically it was acceptable, but he had seen this place too often under less than desirable pretenses; this was no exception. It was here that he had met with Sloane long ago to learn of and discuss SD-6 and the Alliance. It was here that he had come only to leave Sydney alone so many nights to drown the memories of Laura and his once pseudo-perfect life. And it was here that Sydney had found him two weeks ago at his worst. It startled her, seeing him like that. She would never have admitted it, but he found it in her eyes. Just a flash, but it was enough. She had been scared for him. There were two reasons why Jack loved his daughter the way he did. One was that she reminded him so much of her mother. The other was the simple and overwhelming fact that she was not her mother.
Secret agent man
And they had, his real identity anyway. It was all gone, only a memory now. That's all he had now, boxes and boxes of memories. Images of smiling faces, his, hers, Sydney's, but that's all they were, mere images. Not quite lies, but barely resembling truth. This truth he had rejected for so long, he had consciously ignored the little inconsistencies in Laura's stories. He wasn't sure now of whom he had been trying to protect, Sydney, or himself. He always assured himself it had all been for Sydney, for his little girl, but it was a lie. It was all for him. Irina was right, he was a fool.
Beware of pretty faces that you find
He had never been able to figure out why this song was so repulsive, but he knew now. It was that verse. It was all the advice he had never heeded when he was young. Laura had been the prettiest face of them all. He had never known why she had fallen in love with him or why she could ever marry him. Now he knew it had nothing to do with him or love at all. He had been careful of what he said, but never to Laura. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her. But after her 'death' he had been very careful. Very careful not to be around anything that could damage him so again. Even after he was released, after they confirmed he wasn't a traitor, he distanced himself from all those that reminded him of her. "She is better without me," he told himself, "she doesn't need a physically as well as emotionally unavailable father." And after the arrangements were made, he was gone. From one assignment to the next, from Cuba to Shanghai, he completed mission after mission. His rage could be channeled. It was easy to go through rounds on those coming at him. He didn't think twice about the additional beatings he frequently inflicted upon uncooperative informants. They were faceless to him; the only things he could feel were pain and hatred. It wasn't toward any outside force, unless of course he counted the image in the mirror.
Secret agent man
"But she's why I'm here now." He wasn't meeting this contact for his latest case from Sloane, or to follow up any task Vaughn had relayed to him, it was personal. He wanted information on Laura or Irina, or whatever the hell her name was. Where was she? Who was she? Why was she still alive? And most of all, what did she want with Sydney? She had forsaken her right as mother even before she had become one, and now Sydney was far away and at her mercy. He wanted information and he wanted it now. But that wasn't the way it worked and he had to get control. His emotions were ripping him apart inside just as his smarmy acquaintance sauntered into the darkened room. "Hello Mr. Bristow, how are you tonight?" "I'm in no mood for your pleasantries Mr. Sark, sit down." "Fine, but this conversation might be much more comfortable over a drink," Sark turned to the narrow aisle, "Scotch, please." "Where is she?" "Don't be so hasty Mr. Bristow, my information doesn't come without a price." "I don't care what your terms are Mr. Sark, there are three guns in this room, not including my own. If I do not receive the information that I need from you, you will not be leaving this table unless it is in a body bag. Do you understand?" "Yes, you were quite clear. But if I am not mistaken, this is not an agency job." "Are you foolish enough to believe that I do not have the authority to organize such a errand, Mr. Sark? I assumed you were a clever enough young man to see that you didn't have much of a choice here. Was I wrong?" The click of Jack's .45 was unmistakable to Sark's ears and he shifted uneasily. "Mr. Bristow, I would assume that you were also not foolish enough to believe that I would come here alone." "Oh, I'm not, but that problem has been...eliminated. Look around, are you willing to endanger yourself so unnecessarily?" "No, no I'm not." "Well then, where is she?" "Taipei." "They wouldn't keep her there." "They weren't expecting her. They don't intend to keep her." "What is it they want then." "They don't want anything. It's been my understanding that The Man has...taken an interest in her." "What kind of an interest?" "Oh, I believe you know. I assure you she's safe Mr. Bristow, I cannot, however, assure you of anything else concerning this matter." "That, I do believe Mr. Sark." Jack had relaxed, but now he cocked his gun under the table, "We are going to continue this conversation at a later date, let's go." "And where is it we will be going?" "You are headed to CIA custody, I, however, have a plane to catch."
Swinging on the Riviera one day,
Jack wondered if he would have been any good at poker. He had just pulled off the most dangerous bluff in all of history. Sark was in custody again and it was confirmed that Sydney and Vaughn had destroyed the device in Taipei. She's still alive. Laura couldn't do anything to her... His mind was playing mutinous games with him. Assuring, then reassuring, then giving him a new reason to worry. He had duped Sark. There was no reason Sark couldn't have fooled him just as easily. His emotions were guiding his every move, ever since his encounter with Haladki he had been on the verge of exploding. Now on the plane he let himself relax. If he could just fall asleep this would be a short ride. Click. At first it seemed he had been dozing, but then a thick Russian accent slithered into the atmosphere. "Hello Mizter Breestow. Your daughter ees fine, and you will be too az long az you cooperate." The barrel of Khasinau's gun pressed harder into the back of his seat. "I azume that ees why you are going to so much trooble." "Yes," Jack closed his eyes slowly. This was becoming much too difficult.
Secret agent man
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