Part 3
""Sydney, you know more than anyone the importance of keeping up appearances."
They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
John Rzeznik
Sydney lies motionless on the ground, staring up at her parents. She blinks slowly, surprised to find her father still standing there when her eyes reopen. "Dad, what are you doing here?"
Jack reaches a hand down to help his daughter up. She stands to her full height, meeting his steely brown eyes with her own. "Sydney, we need to talk."
"Why are you here, Dad? You should be resting after what happened in Moscow." She tosses a glare at her mother, who has stepped back from the father-daughter reunion. "Come to think of it, why aren't you in Moscow still? The doctor told me it would be days before you were ready for travel."
Jack shakes his head. "Sydney, I've been in L.A. since this morning. As far as why I'm here right now, well, your mother called me."
Sydney takes a step back from Jack, slowly shaking her head. Forcing her spine to stiffen, she turns to address Irina, detaching and pulling off her boxing gloves in the process. "First Sloane, now Dad. Always getting someone else to fight your battles, aren't you, Mom?" Her tone laden with sarcasm, she continues her verbal assault. "And of course, you just assumed he would come here and smooth everything over between the two of us. Never mind that you betrayed him more than once. Never mind that you nearly killed him. Jack to the rescue, as always, because after thirty years of hell, he still can't deny you anything."
Jack's jaw tightens. Sudden, blatant truth is not something he faces well.
Irina's lips purse thoughtfully, her golden brown eyes slamming shut. A chessmaster debating her next strike.
After a moment, her eyes slide open again. "You're very vehement in your accusations, Sydney. Just minutes ago we were discussing your father’s injuries in Moscow, and now apparently I'm using Jack as part of some master plan." Irina begins to unravel the hand wraps she had fastened just minutes before. "First things first. About the issue in Moscow..." she trails off at the look of disgust and defiance in her daughter's eyes. "Sydney. We had a deal."
A slight nod from Sydney. It is assent, or perhaps defeat, Irina knows not which. Either will do.
"Were you in Moscow the night Jack was injured?"
"What difference does that make?"
"All the difference in the world. Answer the question."
Sydney gives a short shake of her head. "No, of course I wasn't. Contrary to my wishes, Kendall sent Dad on a solo op to Russia upon receiving intel that Sloane was there. As you are well aware."
Irina crosses her arms and leans on her left leg, tilting her head slightly to the side. "So it follows that you weren't there when he was shot, right? You never saw the wounds with your own eyes."
"You mean, I wasn't there when you shot him. No. Not that it changes the facts any."
Jack speaks up. "On the contrary, Sydney." He reaches for the buttons on his shirt.
"Dad..."
He shakes his head almost imperceptibly to quiet her and finishes unbuttoning his shirt to reveal several bruises. Sydney looks closely at her father's chest, taking in the lack of cuts or bullet holes. She raises her gaze to his, the questions evident in her eyes.
"Bulletproof vest," Jack explains in his matter-of-fact way. No apologies, no further illuminations. Two words.
Sydney struggles for understanding. "Then why did I get a call from a Russian doctor informing me that you were in Moscow fighting for your life?"
"Sydney, you know more than anyone the importance of keeping up appearances. I, your mother and I, needed you to believe that I had been almost fatally wounded."
Your mother and I. "Dad. You've been working with...her?"
He affirms this. "Ever since Panama."
"That night..." Irina pauses, her eyes shifting to Jack's face, meeting his knowing gaze. Both knew that they would never forget that night.
"We decided that the only way to fully destroy Sloane was for me to further gain his trust. Essentially, Sydney, I was a double agent inside Sloane's organization just as you were once. I would gather information and report back to your father, in the hopes that one day we would be able to punish Sloane for all he's done to us. To you. Especially you."
Irina's eyes plead with Sydney. "You have to know that you mean the world to Jack and I. Everything we do is for you, sweetheart, everything."
Sydney shuts her eyes, trying to block out what is being said. What's that saying? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. She's not sure she has it in her to trust Irina again. "Mom. I know you want me to say it's alright, but I can't do that yet. Right now I need for you to explain what happened in Moscow." She pauses, not wanting to say the next part but not able to stop the word from escaping her lips. "Please."
"Sloane has never forgiven you and your father for what, in his eyes, was the ultimate betrayal. He set up that intel to lure one or both of you to him. His reasoning was unclear, even to me. I assume that he wished to present you with the option of joining his work. Of course, I knew that Jack would never agree to work with Sloane again; I also knew that Sloane would have him killed upon his refusal." Her face froze in a mask of pain, and for once, her heart was literally laid on her sleeve for all to see.
"I couldn't let that happen. I convinced Sloane that I would take care of Jack, and your father and I worked out a way to fake his injury. It had to be perfect, or Sloane would never buy it. We also knew that Sloane could be monitoring you, so your reaction to Jack's injury had to be genuine."
Sydney puts a hand to her forehead, looks at the ground, and inhales a sharp breath. They lied to her. Again. "Dad. Can I speak with you in the hallway?"
He glances to Irina. "We'll be back."
As the two step from the light of the gym to the darkness of the entryway, Sydney turns on her heel to face Jack. "What are you thinking, trusting her again? Helping her escape CIA custody?"
"Look, Sydney, I know how this must seem to you. But after Panama, your mother convinced me that Sloane would not stop his harassment of your life, unless we stopped him first. She was telling you the truth just now. We just wanted to protect you, Sydney...to make up for everything we haven't given you before. Love, security. It's hard for you to believe, but the three of us--you, me, your mother--we're all on the same side."
I found this old picture, me and my father. I was just staring at it, and for some reason, I remember asking him about Santa Claus. If he was real, if Santa Claus was real. My father would answer me in this flat, factual way, "Yes, of course he's real," every time I asked. The thing is, I knew that he was lying, that's why I'd ask him again.
Sydney stares at her father, searching for any discrepancies in his face, his voice. Wanting to believe in him, in what he is saying. Not daring to believe in anyone again. Remembering that her desire to believe in fantasies and fairy tales has only brought destruction.
But as she paces the shadowy entryway and turns to look at him, something pulls her to hope. This is Jack Bristow. Her daddy. The man who loved her and raised her.
The man who trained her to be a spy. Who rigged the explosives in Madagascar. He lied then. She knows he's capable of lying again.
I guess well just have to learn to trust each other.
He tugs a hand through his gunmetal gray hair. "I need you to trust me, Sydney. I realize that in the past I've given you no reason to do so. I have no grounds to be asking this of you, but I'm asking it all the same. Believe that I would not lie to you about this." For one brief instant, the Jack Bristow mask is cracked and the man he once was, the father that Sydney faintly remembers, breaks through.
When I look at her, when I look at the little girl who raised herself to become one of the most extraordinary human beings and one of the finest agents I've ever had the privilege of knowing, I see only the promise of my own redemption....Despite my limited abilities as a father, I love her more than I could ever say.
In the past, she has believed in justice. Justice has failed. She has believed what appears to be true, and has become tangled in a web of lies. All she has trusted has fallen through. So disillusioned with her past, she wonders if there is anything in this world left to trust.
Looking into her father’s eyes, she begins to believe again.
As she nods her head slowly, accepting Jack's relieved arms around her, Sydney finds that love is trustworthy. It might be tough at times, but ultimately it never fails.
Posted by Carrie on 03:15 AM