"You're doing fine, honey," he told her. "Keep breathing." She offered him a glare, but controlled her panting to the quicker rhythm the doctor had suggested.

"Okay, here it comes," the doctor warned. "Now, push!" If the baby was being pushed as hard as his fingers were being crushed, the birth would be very soon.

After a short eternity that lasted about three seconds in real time, Laura fell back against the pillow. "Can't do this," she whispered, hoarse and exhausted.

Jack rested his free hand atop hers. "Yes, you can."

"Push! Now!" the doctor instructed relentlessly. With a scream, she sat up, pushed and squeezed. A moment later, a new wail filled the room. "Head's out, push a little more, Laura!" She pushed, squeezing her eyes closed. The doctor stood and revealed a tiny creature, wet with birthing fluids and blood. "You have a daughter."

Laura dropped back to her pillow, fully spent. She smiled tiredly at Jack. His left hand gently brushed the wet curls from her face. The doctor cleaned the infant, swaddled her in a yellow blanket, and gave her to her mother. Jack discreetely shook out his right hand as she released it to take the baby. Laura cradled the infant in her arms and smiled at it. Laura had never looked more beautiful.

Then she looked up at him, and turned the child so he could get his first good look at his daughter. She was red-faced and screaming. Short, fine, dark hair stuck out in small, wet clumps. One of her tiny arms stuck out from the blanket and waved ineffectually. She was perfect. In that moment, looking at his wife and child, he felt more proud and more frightened than he ever had in his life. But what he said was, "May I hold her?"

Jack sat, hunched over, on a crate in an empty warehouse. "I can't do this anymore." Even in the open area, his voice was pitched too low to echo. "I held my daughter today, Dev." Footsteps approached from behind, and a strong hand cupped his shoulder. "She's so small. I can't do this anymore," he repeated.

"Jack." The voice was calm, understanding. The tone used to convince people they were making a mistake.

"What if I died? Worse, what if someone tried to use her against me? For her safety, I want out of this business. I mean it, Devlin."

The hand rubbed his shoulder then pulled away. The footsteps echoed as he came around to stand in front of Jack. Jack stared at his shiny black shoes. "It's been an honor being your handler." Jack lifted his gaze. Devlin was holding out a hand to him.

Jack frowned, his eyes narrowed. "What? I can quit, just like that?"

"You make valid points. You're a father now, Jack. We'd love to keep you, but if you can't give a hundred and ten percent to this job, you're dead. We'd rather you alive at a desk job."

Jack stood, his eyes flashing angrily. "A desk job."

"I'm assuming you still want to serve your country. We do need analysts."

Jack stalked past him. He spun 180 and glared. Jack had a very good glare. Even Devlin retreated half a step. "I am not a paper-pusher." Despite his anger, the words came out cold and hard. He realized belatedly that he was insulting Devlin's own job, but he didn't really care.

"I know you're not."

Jack scowled.

"Jack, you're a good agent. I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it again. One of the best."

Jack drew in a breath. "I said I quit."

"You can't." Jack's jaw shifted, a sign of annoyance. "And not because we won't let you. Think about it, Jack. What would you do?"

He crossed his arms, his expression angry. "I got a masters in Aeronatical Engineering last year. I think I can find something."

"A desk job. A civilian desk job." Devlin laced it with contempt.

Jack closed his eyes and turned his back on Devlin. "There's Sydney to think about now."

"So think about her. And think about this country. You're making a difference, Jack."

He shook his head. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because if you wanted to leave, you would have taken my hand when I offered it."

Jack heard Devlin's approach echo through the warehouse. He blanked his face and turned toward the handler. "So what's my mission?"

The handler put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You're a new dad, Jack. Take a few weeks off. We don't want you distracted on a mission." Devlin smiled, but it was more sympathetic than glad. "You're a good man, Jack. We're glad to have you."