Jack stood in disbelief. How could she have figured so much out with so little information? God, she was so much like her mother. Now Sydney waited silently before him, dripping and shivering. It had been hours since he'd seen her and he had been worried. She shouldn't be here now, she should be on her way to that God forsaken mountain.

"Dad?" Sydney said, nearly whispering.

"You should be on an airplane," he said again.

He hated his tone. He hated sounding so cold. Sydney had grown to expect it, but he still despised himself for becoming so distant. Jack loved his daughter, more than she could ever understand. All those years apart had done nothing but bring him guilt and self-loathing. He understood his daughter, he knew her passion, he knew her brilliance, and he knew her sincerity. He'd known these things once before in another woman. But that was a lie. The same person he thought he knew so well had taken all that away from him. He would never let that happen again. Sydney would never have to face her mother if he could help it. Laura...Laura, if that name didn't feel like a knife turning deep inside him, he might have laughed out loud at his own foolishness of thinking of it.

"I know, Dad, I know...let's go."

The truth was Jack was glad Sydney called him, her gentle voice on the other end of that phone line was the last he expected and the only he wanted to hear. She was so beautiful, so strong, and yet so innocent.

Innocence was not a characteristic normally attributed to double agents. Sydney wasn't just an agent though. She was easily one of the best agents SD-6 or the CIA had. Jack knew this. He was proud of her. Most of all though, he wanted her out of the agency, away from SD-6, away from Arvin Sloane. He'd known Sloane for a long time, and he loathed him.

The drive to the plane was short and silent. It wasn't that either occupant of the car had nothing to say; they had a lifetime to talk about, but Sydney still didn't know exactly what to think of her father and Jack still didn't know how to tell his daughter all the things he knew he should.

The short airstrip was finally in view. Sydney sighed heavily. She was tired. It had been a long day.

"You know what to do when you get there," Jack stated flatly as the car idled.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks Dad."

Sydney opened the car door slowly and stepped out. She was still soaked. Her usually wispy, care-free hair was stringy and messy from the watery car ride earlier that day. As Sydney closed the door behind her Jack wished he could say something more, but the words wouldn't come. He had heard them so many times in his head, but there they stayed. It felt as if his heart, mind, and mouth were no longer connected. For the hundredth time that day he wanted a drink. He wanted to forget everything. He couldn't though, not tonight, there were things to be done.

Jack put the car in reverse, backed out, and drove slowly home. Memories were the constant backdrop to his thoughts. Lately his unbreakable concentration had been anything but. At the office, at home, in the car, all he could think about was Laura, his stupidity, and Sydney's safety. He used to be in control. Long ago, he was in control. It was true... ignorance was bliss. He was completely ignorant of how close the enemy truly was all those years ago. He had been in love... Now he knew had all been a lie; he had been a pawn. And now...now Sydney too was sharing the knowledge, the burden he had discovered what seemed like an eon ago. His wife was alive. He more than just knew it.

Jack had seen Laura (No, not Laura...Laura's ghost.) just two weeks earlier. She had made him promise he wouldn't tell Sydney. How long could he keep that promise? He was sick of lying to his daughter. He didn't want Sydney to know her mother was alive, that she was right here in L.A. This wasn't the woman Jack had loved, she wasn't the woman Jack had married, she wasn't the woman that deserved such a daughter. That thought always made his stop, was he the man that deserved these things he was denying another? He left Sydney as a baby; he never attempted to be a part of her life. Now that he saw her every day, though, now that he saw her intelligence, her desire, her compassion, he knew he couldn't be without her ever again.

The headlights of his sleek, black car ran across his garage door as it opened. He was home. What was he doing here? He couldn't sleep.

She'd be home. She'd be alone.

The soft mechanical hum of the garage door started again and the sleek, black car reemerged onto the street. Jack had someone to talk to.