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Topic 40: Protection
This might or might not have happened. After all, he is quite adroit at rewriting his past.
But this is the way he remembers it, in the dark.
Six-years-old Sydney, busy assembling all her stuffed animals, hiding them on her bed, under her bed, building a fortress with the carpet as well. (An expensive carpet; this used to be his office and has only just been transformed into a children's room, improvised on the spot because the CIA when arresting Sydney's father did not give advance warning.) Somewhere - in kindergarden, in school, who really knows? - she heard the story of the flood, and is somehow convinced there will be a new one. She thinks it rather unfair there will be only two of each kind allowed to survive, though; she wants to save them all.
"You can't," Arvin says, asked for his opinion. In other circumstances, he'd smile benignly and express approval, but he is not exactly himself these days. The idea of Jack getting interrogated as a potential traitor is infuriating; the revelation that the late Laura Bristow was never Laura at all, but a KGB agent named Irina Derevko and might not be dead at all is more than that.
"Yes, I can," Sydney insists, and Arvin Sloane has odd thoughts. Ridiculous thoughts. He could, for example, report to the Assistant Director. Tell the man that Agent Bristow was not the only one taken in by Laura - by Derevko, he corrects himself, not wishing to call her Irina, a name which with its Byzantine connotations carries a strange allure. One of the reasons why Jack is now suspected of having been Derevko's accomplice instead of her dupe is Jack's previous track record. He's one of the best agents around, no one's fool; could such a man be fooled for near seven years? Well, Sir, yes; look at my own record. I am no one's fool, either, and she did the same thing to me. In fact, I believe some of the information Derevko gathered, which you believe indicates Agent Bristow's guilt as it concerned cases he was not involved with, came through me. So you see, Sir, it should either be both of us in that interrogation cell, or neither of us.
Why, thank you, Agent Sloane. Please join Agent Bristow in state custody. Oh, and your wife has just filed her divorce papers. But at least you don't have to worry about Agent Bristow's little daughter any more. Upon hearing of your touching confession, Agent Bristow changed his request regarding you as a custodian. She'll be raised in an excellent orphanage instead.
"Sometimes," Arvin says to Sydney, "you have to sacrifice some to protect those you love best. Or you'll lose them all."
He won't say anything to the Assistant Director. Of course he won't.
Sydney stares at him, a frown on her forehead which could have been her father's, brown eyes darkening into her mother's near black.
"You're lying," she states flatly. It's not like Sydney to be disrespectful to an adult, but that is what she says. A part of him hopes she'll be able to keep that naiveté for a long time.
It says something about his disturbed state, though, that he wonders, even for a moment, whether she isn't right.
But this is the way he remembers it, in the dark.
Six-years-old Sydney, busy assembling all her stuffed animals, hiding them on her bed, under her bed, building a fortress with the carpet as well. (An expensive carpet; this used to be his office and has only just been transformed into a children's room, improvised on the spot because the CIA when arresting Sydney's father did not give advance warning.) Somewhere - in kindergarden, in school, who really knows? - she heard the story of the flood, and is somehow convinced there will be a new one. She thinks it rather unfair there will be only two of each kind allowed to survive, though; she wants to save them all.
"You can't," Arvin says, asked for his opinion. In other circumstances, he'd smile benignly and express approval, but he is not exactly himself these days. The idea of Jack getting interrogated as a potential traitor is infuriating; the revelation that the late Laura Bristow was never Laura at all, but a KGB agent named Irina Derevko and might not be dead at all is more than that.
"Yes, I can," Sydney insists, and Arvin Sloane has odd thoughts. Ridiculous thoughts. He could, for example, report to the Assistant Director. Tell the man that Agent Bristow was not the only one taken in by Laura - by Derevko, he corrects himself, not wishing to call her Irina, a name which with its Byzantine connotations carries a strange allure. One of the reasons why Jack is now suspected of having been Derevko's accomplice instead of her dupe is Jack's previous track record. He's one of the best agents around, no one's fool; could such a man be fooled for near seven years? Well, Sir, yes; look at my own record. I am no one's fool, either, and she did the same thing to me. In fact, I believe some of the information Derevko gathered, which you believe indicates Agent Bristow's guilt as it concerned cases he was not involved with, came through me. So you see, Sir, it should either be both of us in that interrogation cell, or neither of us.
Why, thank you, Agent Sloane. Please join Agent Bristow in state custody. Oh, and your wife has just filed her divorce papers. But at least you don't have to worry about Agent Bristow's little daughter any more. Upon hearing of your touching confession, Agent Bristow changed his request regarding you as a custodian. She'll be raised in an excellent orphanage instead.
"Sometimes," Arvin says to Sydney, "you have to sacrifice some to protect those you love best. Or you'll lose them all."
He won't say anything to the Assistant Director. Of course he won't.
Sydney stares at him, a frown on her forehead which could have been her father's, brown eyes darkening into her mother's near black.
"You're lying," she states flatly. It's not like Sydney to be disrespectful to an adult, but that is what she says. A part of him hopes she'll be able to keep that naiveté for a long time.
It says something about his disturbed state, though, that he wonders, even for a moment, whether she isn't right.