If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will

If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell

If it be your will
To make us well
And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night

If it be your will

--"If It Be Your Will," Leonard Cohen

IRENICON: Book Twelve

I.


"We're close," Nadia said. She was only a dark shape ahead of Sydney in the underbrush, black on green in the moonlight. "I remember this hill."

From when you came here with Vaughn, Sydney thought but did not say. The idea held less bitterness as she became more accustomed to it, but it still stung.

"We should've run into ground troops by now. Getting past the perimeter was too easy." Sydney forced herself to keep up, sliding downhill beside Nadia, feet tilted to gain traction in the loose, moist jungle soil. Her weakness relative to her sister was already showing, but if they were near enough to the hill, perhaps it didn't matter. "Whoever's come here is trying to stop people from finding the lab - but he hasn't prepared for people who know where the lab is."

"That's the same mistake we made," Nadia said.

"It's overconfidence. That worked against us last time; it can work for us now." Once they were in the building, their opponent would find it was difficult to keep them from leaving it. "You remember where everything was kept?"

"The notes, the vials, all of it. I'll locate, you'll translate. In and out."

Which one of us is giving the orders? Sydney thought. Then again, her status as team leader had never been established anywhere but in her own mind; if Nadia considered them equal partners, that was precisely what they were - until Sydney herself proved otherwise.

She wasn't at all sure she could do that, not now. It was her expertise that would get them into the lab and lead them to the materials they needed; if they escaped again, that would be a function of Nadia's strength. Until tonight, Sydney had not fully appreciated how little physical activity she'd engaged in while pregnant - though she was still in good shape by ordinary standards, she wouldn't have passed an agency fitness trial. The long hike from the last place they'd dared drive the rented Jeep had left her winded and slightly lightheaded. Worst of all, her breasts burned and ached, hard and heavy with the milk that she should have given to Sarah hours before. Her bra was damp with it. Some commando, Sydney thought.

Her mind seemed to be as ill-prepared as her body. Normally, Sydney was never more focused than she was during a mission. But now her thoughts were cluttered with a litany of worries: Sarah's hungry. No, she's not, Vaughn's fed her, he's taken care of her. By now Vaughn knows, they all know - and nobody tried to intercept us - Dad listened to me, he let me go, but he would have been right to stop me, because I don't know if I can do this --

Sydney breathed in deeply, silencing her fears. She could get into the lab and guide Nadia to the materials they needed. After that, it didn't matter what happened to her. Nadia looked more than able to take care of herself.

"Wait," Nadia said, just as Sydney began walking. She scooped her fingers into the ground, then drew cool lines of mud across Sydney's cheeks and forehead. As she did the same to herself, she smiled. "Better?"

We would have played like this as girls, Sydney thought, if we'd been raised as sisters. The idea made her sad, but she smiled back. "Thanks."

**

"We could've caught them," Vaughn said, aware of the incongruity of having this conversation while he tried to bottle-feed his daughter for the first time. Sarah, displeased with the change, fretted between every two or three swallows; he tried to think tactics while dabbing formula from the sides of her mouth. "Why the hell didn't Jack send a team?"

"You got me." Weiss paced the length of the galley, hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were pale. A truce between them had been wordlessly declared the moment Sydney was confirmed as missing. They still found it easier to have their conversation without looking at each other. "He should've been out of there, the second he knew she was gone. We ought to be trying to catch up."

Vaughn agreed, but that was beside the point. "Jack's not going after them, and he's not sending anybody. That means someone else has to go."

"You mean --" Weiss stopped pacing and stared hard at Vaughn. "You and me."

"No." As much as Vaughn itched to help Sydney and Nadia, other responsibilities were even more important. "I have to stay with Sarah."

"Jack could -"

"Jack's watching Irina die," Vaughn snapped. "Besides, even if I thought letting Jack take care of a baby was a good idea, I couldn't hand her off to him. He'd know what we were planning."

"First of all, the guy didn't drop Sydney on her head or anything, even though you wouldn't know that from whatever crack-brained mission she's on right now. Second, we have other babysitting options. What about Robin? She's not going to ask any questions, not for a while."

"We aren't talking about leaving Sarah behind for a couple of hours!" Vaughn took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "If there's a risk Sydney isn't coming back, I'm staying here. I grew up without one parent, and that was hard enough. No way am I going to put my daughter at risk of losing both parents."

Weiss sighed. "Okay. Fair enough. But why not run this by Jack, get his perspective? He'd have a plan; you know he would."

Sometimes Vaughn felt as though the months he'd spent away from Sydney and Weiss were years. "If Jack wanted anybody to go after Sydney and Nadia, he would have gone himself. Period. He didn't, so he's not going to okay anybody else's plan. That means we can't tip him off to the fact that you're going."

It was simultaneously the strangest and the most right feeling in the world, to trust Weiss completely with Sydney's safety.

After a pause, Weiss accepted his reasoning, nodding as he said, "Okay. I'd prefer backup, but once I catch up with Syd, that's backup enough. How are we going to -"

His voice trailed off as footsteps approached; Vaughn felt a tremor of unease and contempt as Julian Sark strolled in, dressed all in black, as though he would be heading to a nightclub later. Thus far, everyone on board had done a good job of keeping him and Sark separate, which was exactly how Vaughn had preferred it.

Sark raised an eyebrow. "Merely here for some water. Don't let me interrupt." But he hesitated a couple of steps into the galley and peered down at Sarah. "Forgive my curiosity. I've not actually seen her before."

"How did we ever leave you off the babysitter's list?" Vaughn would've shrugged, had Sarah not ruined his delivery by spitting up some formula.

As he dabbed her down, Sark stepped even closer; Vaughn's arms tightened around Sarah instinctively. Sark's voice was almost kind as he said, "Come now. I'm simply enjoying how very much she looks like her maternal grandmother. The resemblance should be delightful for you, as time goes on."

"I'm not interested in your opinion on this."

"You should listen more carefully. I'm sure you've read your fairy tales; not every guest at the christening is one of the good fairies. And the uninvited visitors frequently have the most interesting things to say." Sark pulled out a bottle of water, adding casually, "Besides, if it's backup you want -"

"You've GOT to be kidding." Weiss folded his arms. "There is a very short list of people I trust with my life, but if that list were a hundred times longer than it is, you still wouldn't be on it."

"Trust. You all place so much value on such an unnecessary commodity." Sark's smile was sharp and knowing - the smile of a man who knew he had the better of an argument. "You require a second person on your search party-someone with both the expertise and the will to defy Jack Bristow's instructions. Mr. Vaughn, due to family responsibilities, is unable to assist. Whom else do you expect to ask? Or does a suicide mission sound like just the thing? You can prove your devotion to Sydney and give her up all in one noble stroke."

Weiss had the exact same look on his face that he'd had before he got in that bar fight junior year of college. "You son of a -"

"Weiss - hang on." Vaughn took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to think rationally. Sark was a snake - but he was good at what he did. That had always worked against them; could it work for them now?

Quickly, he went through the possibilities in his mind, trying to think of any motive Sark would have for stabbing Weiss in the back. Killing Sydney? As long as the cure for the Rain of Gold remained a mystery, Sark had a vested interest in keeping Syd alive. Getting back in Sloane's good graces? There was no guarantee Sloane would ever know about any of this, or that anything short of Sydney's murder would make the guy happy.

Vaughn tried them out and counted them off, one by one - and none of Sark's potential motives for betrayal panned out. The only thing he might have to gain by this would be escape. So, worst-case scenario: Once they were off the ship, Sark could just take off and leave Weiss on his own, in which case Weiss was no worse off.

Vaughn looked at Weiss and said, "Think about it."

"We're giving this guy a gun?" Weiss said. "How is this a good idea?"

"No gun. No weapons of any kind. If you get into a situation where you want to arm him, do it. If you get into a situation where you want to shoot him, do it. Otherwise, he's just another pair of eyes and ears." Readjusting Sarah in his arms, Vaughn added, "It's your call."

His eyes met Weiss' again, and in that moment - united by their appraisal of a common enemy - the distance between them seemed to have fallen away to nothing. They were on the same page again - friends again, if only for right now.

"I'm waiting," Sark said, between sips of his water. "What will it be?"

**

Nadia crept along the perimeter of the main lab. Every small sound she or Sydney made - a footfall that was slightly too loud, the faint click of Sydney's fingers against the computer keyboard - made her flinch. But thus far, they'd run into only one guard, who had quickly and silently been dispatched into unconsciousness. His rifle was now slung over Nadia's shoulder; his body was sprawled on the floor.

When she glanced behind her, she saw Sydney hard at work. Sydney didn't look good; if Nadia had noticed a stranger so pale and drawn, she would probably have offered to help that person find a place to lie down. But Sydney's resolve was clear as she paged through various documents, translating as she went. The supplies they'd needed for the vaccines' reproduction were already in a satchel on her lap; how long could it take to find synthesizing requirements?

"I think I've found something," Sydney said, as though she'd heard Nadia's thoughts.

"Memorize it, and let's go."

"Wait, wait, wait. This is important. This could be -"

Her curiosity got the better of her. Nadia turned around, studying Sydney's transfixed face. "What else have you found?"

The door's click ricocheted through the room like a gunshot. Nadia whirled toward the noise, rifle in her hand in a second, firing blind. A dark-clad figure fell, but two others appeared, forcing her to drop to the floor. Behind her, she heard a deep THUNK followed by the shimmery sound of broken glass; they'd hit the computer monitor. Had they hit Sydney too?

Angered by a protectiveness she hadn't known she felt, Nadia shouldered her rifle, bracing herself to fire from the floor. But then she heard a voice that made her go cold: "Don't shoot."

Sydney - apparently unharmed - spat the name out as though it tasted bad. "Sloane."

Nadia sat up and saw him, impeccably suit-clad even here in the center of the jungle. Seeing him again was harder than she'd thought it would be. "Papa?"

His eyes darted over to her for only a moment, then moved back to Sydney, as though Nadia were invisible.

**

Eric was already up to 92 things he didn't like about this current scenario, and he hadn't even gotten to Sark's rap sheet yet. But if the only way to help Sydney was to get some backup, and the only possible backup was Sark - the one thing he did approve of outweighed all 92 he didn't.

"Stay back near the door," he said to Sark, who was a couple steps behind as they headed to the supply room. Vaughn, Sarah on his shoulder, took the rear. "I'm getting weapons. You're staying away from the weapons."

"Just remain about five steps in front of me," Vaughn said, though he didn't look all that kick-ass while he was holding a baby.

Sark held up his hands, as if in a gesture of surrender. "You're making this entire process far more unpleasant than it needs to be. We may as well be cordial to one another. Common goals, and all that."

"We have one common goal," Weiss said, not sure even that was true. He took up a Glock - not his usual model, but more than appropriate for the trip. "Doesn't make you my fraternity brother."

"I think you and I share more than you realize, Mr. Weiss. Lives in espionage, strong skills too often employed only in the service of others -- and an appreciation of Michael Vaughn's women."

Eric felt the adrenalin surge of anger as a throb in his temples, a clutch at his heart. "Sark, just shut the fuck -"

Sark moved faster than Eric could really see - a duck, a slam, and Vaughn was going down from an elbow to the ribs. But Sarah -

"Sark, put her down!" Eric aimed the Glock straight at him, only to have the screaming baby held up as a shield.

"Believe me when I say that I'm as appalled as you are," Sark said. "Beneath my dignity, I know. But, as the saying goes, any port in a storm. Mr. Vaughn, if you're fond of your daughter, I suggest that you move to the far corner. Hands on your head, please."

Vaughn was crouched on the ground, doubled over with pain; his eyes sought Eric's, looking for guidance. The fingers of one of Sark's hands were wrapped around Sarah's tiny neck. It would only take one wrench. Eric nodded, and Vaughn did what Sark said, muttering curses beneath his breath the entire time.

"Do you seriously think you can get off this ship with her?" Eric said. "Or is this just a game you're playing to find out if Jack Bristow actually would skin someone alive?"

"I meant what I said. I don't like this." Sark's voice was raised slightly to compete with Sarah's cries. "I'm not here for Sarah, or for you. This is between me and Mr. Vaughn. Or it will be, as soon as you throw me your gun. Do it now."

Vaughn nodded; fear for his daughter obviously outweighed everything else, even his anger. Eric knew pretty much how he felt. With a gentle, underhand toss he lobbed the gun at Sark, who caught it deftly in one hand while still holding onto Sarah with the other.

"Very good. I'm going to set the child down now, and then you will collect her, Mr. Weiss."

"You're just handing her over?" Vaughn didn't seem able to believe it. "Just like that?"

"I consider this a serious matter, and my sadism is purely recreational." Sark knelt, keeping his gun leveled between Eric's eyes the entire time. Sarah wailed even more pitifully as he laid her on the floor and stepped back; Eric was almost grateful to be able to drop to his knees and scoop her up in his arms. He'd never held Sarah before this moment, and the surge of protectiveness that washed through him was dizzyingly intense.

"I can't believe I brought you down here," Vaughn said.

Sark smiled. "I saw you weighing all my possible motives; you're still an open book, you know. But you had a blind spot. It never occurred to you that I might be thinking of Lauren. That I might want justice for her."

Eric thought: You have got to be fucking kidding me. He said only, "Lauren got justice. Remember?"

"We define it differently. Now, Mr. Weiss, if you'll be so good as to move to the supply closet across the hallway. Yes, that one. I'll lock up behind you, and you can babysit to your heart's content for an hour or so. I doubt my work with Mr. Vaughn will take any longer than that. A ship's patrol should find you shortly thereafter."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Eric protested to Vaughn.

"Yes, you are." Vaughn's eyes were steely. "Get Sarah to safety. That's all that matters."

Hating himself, hating Sark, hating even Syd and Vaughn for being big dumb heroic jerks, Eric held the whimpering Sarah close as he backed into the closet. He couldn't see Vaughn any more, but he heard him say, quietly, "Take care of her." Eric wasn't sure it was Sarah that Vaughn was talking about now.

As the darkness enfolded him, he said to Sark's silhouette, "You know you're going to hell for this."

"You'll have to use that threat on someone who isn't on the verge of immortality." Sark slammed the door shut.

Sarah's shrieks redoubled at the noise, and Eric patted her back, trying to soothe her. "Hang on, baby girl, hang on." He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. "Your Uncle Eric's gonna figure out how to pick a lock."

**

Sydney Bristow was still alive.

Sloane stared down at her, dismay warring with relief. He couldn't deny his emotional response to seeing her; if he'd thought she would allow it, he would have embraced her. Of course, it meant that the worst was not behind them, but still lay ahead.

"Jack did this," he said. "Nobody else could have."

"Kept me safe from you? That's right." Her movements as she struggled to her feet were uncharacteristically clumsy. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored her question, distracted by her shape. Even though she wore an oversized flannel shirt, he could see the rounded curve of her belly, the new fullness of her breasts. "Sydney - you're pregnant?"

Sydney's face revealed her displeasure at his realization, but she obviously saw that there was no point in lying to him about what her body so clearly betrayed. "No. I'm a mother."

A new mother, then - no more than a month. Sloane did the calculations, realized the threat instantly. "You were never the cure. It was always your child. I'm glad there's no more reason to harm you, Sydney. Though you won't believe me, I'm greatly relieved."

"Since that means you want to hurt my child instead, it's not much of a relief for me." But then she smiled, her expression challenging him. "But my baby's with my father - and my mother. They're together. I think they can take care of you."

Sloane breathed out heavily, knowing he was doing a poor job of hiding his dismay. So, Jack had broken down, gone back to Irina. Some men never learned; their emotions ruled them. Perhaps Jack's stubborn refusal to accept so many of the smaller joys and loves of life made the few that entered his heart all the more powerful. And Irina was merely playing another of her games. Would she never accept that she had a finer destiny than whoring herself out for personal advantage? Apparently not.

"Your parents are formidable individuals, Sydney. I wouldn't argue that point with you." He stepped a little closer - though, of course, not within range for her to strike. "What's more interesting to me is that they seem unlikely to have allowed you to go on such an errand without a strike team, particularly in your current condition. Something seems to have added urgency to your situation. And I wonder what that might be?"

"It's a fair question," Sydney said. "Just like the question of what you're doing here. You should be tucked away safe and sound, shouldn't you? To wait out the Rain of Gold? But you're not. You're here. What's so important that it drew you out of your shell?"

As if she didn't know. As if they didn't all know, as if she hadn't brought Nadia along just to mock him.

"Papa?" Nadia stumbled to her feet. "Papa, I know that you're angry, but I wanted -"

"I don't care what you want," he snarled at the thing that had masqueraded as his child. "Don't speak to me."

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Sydney looked surprised.

**

Sark had learned how to plan from Irina Derevko herself, which meant that he was terribly good at it. But the current plan was makeshift at best, and he knew it; it would serve his purposes to hurry.

The muffled cries from behind the closet door would undoubtedly slow Weiss' escape efforts only slightly. Say thirty minutes, maximum.

It would be a simple matter to shoot Weiss upon his emergence, but there was always the risk of hitting the child. Sark had considered killing her; though it struck him as a profoundly distasteful act, the infant's murder would hurt Vaughn as nothing else had the power to do. But the baby was one of the Derevko women - and with Katya dead, Irina dying and Sydney and Nadia on a suicide mission, possibly Sarah was the last. To his surprise, Sark found he was just sentimental enough to want to keep that bloodline alive. He considered it a gift to Irina, payment in full for everything she'd given him, whether she ever knew it or not.

He'd have to work efficiently, then, to get done before the ship's patrol arrived or Weiss escaped. But he already knew just how everything would go.

"More of your recreational sadism?" Vaughn's arms were cuffed above his head, his feet just able to make contact with the floor as he dangled from a metal abutment.

"This is business. This is something I've sworn to do."

"To avenge Lauren? Give me a break, Sark. You two were fucking. Big deal. If you've somehow confused yourself into thinking that you cared about her, you can't be a big enough fool to think that she cared about you."

"Your priorities never cease to amaze me, Vaughn." He remembered Lauren, black lace on white skin, those guarded eyes he never understood. Had he loved her? Sark would never know the answer - but he didn't have to know. "The only thing that matters is that she was mine. You took her away from me, and you took pleasure in doing so. You took your revenge, and I shall take mine."

"You really don't have anything left, do you?" Sark could hear the smile in Vaughn's voice, even though he wasn't looking at the man's face. "If you're down to risking everything for Lauren - the rest of your life must have been completely emptied out. I'm dying a happier man than you'll ever be."

Was this a reference to the wailing behind the door? It scarcely mattered.

"I've had occasion to observe you very carefully during the previous two years. 'Happy' is not the first word that comes to mind." He sorted through the various supplies in the room, spied what he wanted and smiled. "How did your little saga of Lauren's death begin? Ah, yes. With a crowbar."

The heft of the metal in his hands and the velocity of the swing were almost as satisfying as the crunch of Vaughn's ribs, but the cry of pain was definitely the best.

**

Sloane's anger toward Nadia confused Sydney deeply; after all his big speeches about paternal love, why was he being such a bastard? Because Nadia escaped?

Sydney needed Sloane angry, upset - distracted. He hadn't yet raised a full alert, which was to their advantage. Two guards and Sloane: They could handle that, as long as Nadia realized it. But right now, Nadia was blinking tears from her eyes. Focusing was going to be Sydney's job for a while.

"I've been doing some reading," Sydney said. "Some pretty interesting stuff."

Sloane ignored this. "Was it a boy or a girl, Sydney? It doesn't make any difference, but I'm curious to know. As a family friend."

"That's a strange definition of friend." Sydney decided that either refusing or lying would be more pathetic than telling the truth; whatever protection her father and Vaughn could give Sarah, it wouldn't come from anonymity. "A girl."

"A granddaughter. Jack must be very proud."

"Don't stand there and pretend that you're not going to try to kill her." Sydney could simply have told him that Sarah didn't provide the cure - but he wouldn't have believed her in any case. Better to keep him from acting, especially given what she now knew. "You're never going to lay a hand on my daughter."

Sloane smiled. "You remind me of Jack sometimes. Don't be offended."

"I'm not." At this moment, it was the highest compliment Sydney could have hoped to receive.

"You were reading something, Sydney." Nadia's voice was tremulous, still shaken by the absolute rejection from her father. But she was staying focused. Good, Sydney thought, cheering her sister on without meeting her eyes. "Something interesting."

"Bomani had found out that Thomas Brill was designated to feed Vaughn false intel," Sydney said. Her eyes bored into Sloane's, wishing him to drop dead from the truth of what she had to say. "He was supposed to pass on a Rambaldi prophecy. A false prophecy."

Sloane breathed in sharply. That's right, you bastard, Sydney thought with a surge of triumph. I'm onto you now.

"What prophecy did this Brill person tell Michael?" Nadia took a step forward - and though it looked as if she was moved by emotion, Sydney could see her getting into striking range of one of the guards. For the first time, she realized, she really could learn to love her sister.

"That if the two of us ever met, we would battle - and one of us wouldn't survive. Nadia, it's a lie. It's nothing but a lie."

"Why tell us that? What purpose does that lie serve?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. You want to help us out here, Sloane?" Sydney didn't seriously think he'd cooperate, but she wanted to notice his reactions. Behind him, Nadia's face was changing from bewilderment to something Sydney could only call hope. "Why fake a Rambaldi prophecy just to keep two half-sisters from ever -"

"Stop it!" Sloane's face looked harder than Sydney had ever seen it - harsh, and ugly, the true man finally stripped of his genteel faÁade. "I know the truth. I talked to Judy Barnett in Los Angeles. She told me about Nadia."

Nadia's eyes flickered over to Sydney, who had to work not to betray her own confusion. She tried to sound like she already knew as she casually asked, "Told you what?"

"I know Nadia's not my real daughter. Jack is her father. It seems obvious, in retrospect - but you played upon an old man's vulnerabilities well. I salute you, whatever such trickery is worth." Sloane sighed out heavily. "But you should have known there would be - repercussions."

Sydney had heard her father's story; it was medically impossible for him to be Nadia's father too. Why did Sloane believe that?

Judy Barnett. The psychological counter-ops. Barnett had spun Sloane - taken away the daughter at the center of his world, not to mention his connection to Rambaldi. That was what had driven Sloane out of his safe patterns, all the secure places he'd found for himself to hide while the Rain of Gold ravaged the world. If it weren't for that, Sloane wouldn't be here - and Sydney wouldn't have the chance to take him out for once and for all.

Good job, Judy, Sydney thought, realizing the woman was dead by now. You put this into play. I'm not going to waste the chance.

"You're not my father?" Nadia's shock no longer looked feigned as she stumbled forward, and Sydney felt both pity and panic at the expression on her face. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it."

Sloane looked back at Nadia, sad now instead of angry, and Sydney's gut clenched. How close were they? Could Judy's work be undone, if they'd formed a strong enough bond? She remembered Dad telling her that his feelings for her had never changed when he'd doubted his paternity; what if it was turned out to be the same for Sloane?

Could he win Nadia back, even now?

**

Vaughn bit down on his lip so hard he could taste fresh blood, but it didn't stop a moan from escaping.

"Honestly. You've got nine more toenails; you didn't really need that one." Sark flicked away his prize, one of the few pieces of detailed work he'd done. Mostly he'd contented himself with beating the shit out of Vaughn.

Sore and dazed, Vaughn kept hoping against hope that the ship's patrol was going to arrive in time to save his life. No doubt Sark had it timed down to the second, though; Vaughn couldn't expect to live more than a couple more minutes.

Every once in a while, he would hear Sarah wail from behind the door, though Weiss was keeping her pretty quiet. Doing a good job, Vaughn thought, surprised at the relief he felt. If he had to leave Sydney and Sarah, there was nobody else he'd trust to take care of them more than Weiss.

That didn't mean he was ready to let go.

"Lauren didn't die quickly. It took her a while, even with six bullets in her. Who thought she would have been that strong?" Sark cocked his head. "Have I remembered your words exactly?"

Vaughn remembered retelling Lauren's death, realized anew how sick he'd been, to enjoy that memory. "Just about."

"Then let me fill in my half of the conversation, the part I didn't dare say then." With a snap, Sark's foot slammed into the small of Vaughn's back. Over Vaughn's growl of pain, Sark continued, "I knew Lauren was that strong. Not all that smart, I'll grant you, but she had good instincts, and will, and ambition. And - though you've been remarkably slow about realizing it - she was on the right side."

"The fuck she was," Vaughn said, earning himself a fist in the jaw.

"Have you learned nothing? No, I don't suppose you have." Sark folded his arms, studying Vaughn as though he were a laboratory specimen. "Lauren worked for the Covenant. While you and your lot were still blissfully ignorant of even the threat of the Rain of Gold, Lauren was working to find and destroy the source. She might have succeeded, and saved literally millions of lives, if only you'd gotten the hell out of her way."

Vaughn knew there was truth there, but it left out so much more. "Not even you are delusional enough to think that the Covenant is a philanthropic organization. So don't think you're going to convince me. You people lie, cheat, steal and kill, all to get Rambaldi's power for yourselves. The Rain of Gold interferes with that. Otherwise, you'd be cheering it on."

"We aren't in the realm of might-have-been, Vaughn. We're in a reality where Lauren's cause was just - whether you like it or not. And you don't like it, do you?"

Once again, Sark's fist slammed into his jaw, and Vaughn sensed the interview drawing to a close. If something didn't happen, and in the next few seconds, he was going to die.

A stirring from the closet suggested that Weiss was trying something with the door, but the prospect filled Vaughn not with hope but with dread. Don't do it, he thought, willing some kind of telepathy to kick in between him and Weiss. To hell with me. Keep Sarah safe.

Sark stared at Vaughn's mouth and smiled. "You said that Lauren had blood bubbling up on her lips, just before the end. Something husband and wife had in common, I see." He reached out and brushed along Vaughn's lips with one finger - then traced around his own mouth, painting crimson streaks like lipstick. "But I'm going to tell you a very special secret." Leaning very close to Vaughn's ear, he whispered, "I'm going to let you live."

Vaughn was unconvinced. "Spare me the mind games."

"No mind game - or, shall we say, a very different one than you think." Sark folded his arms and smiled. "I want you to live, Vaughn. And I want you to know that you live not because you were stronger, or smarter, or more able. You live because Lauren's lover let you live."

As Vaughn stared, Sark continued, "Every morning you awaken, every night you go to sleep, every time you hold your child in your arms, remember that, for the sake of Lauren's memory, I could have taken it all away. And for the sake of Lauren's memory, I did not. I want you to live, remembering her. I want you to carry that weight forever."

"You son of a bitch -"

Sark leaned forward and kissed Vaughn on the forehead; he could feel the stickiness of his own blood against his skin. "You're welcome." 

**

"You - you have to be my father." Nadia couldn't stop looking at Papa. Even when she was angry, even when she'd known how profoundly he'd betrayed her - part of her had still longed to believe in him. She had still loved him, no matter what he'd done - because he was her father. That was true, the way up was down, or night followed day. It couldn't be a lie.

"They didn't tell you?" Papa cocked his head. "A cruel joke. Then again, maybe Jack Bristow doesn't have the kind of heart that would allow for more than one child's love."

He believed it. He absolutely believed it. Could it be true?

For only an instant, she glanced over Papa's shoulder, at Sydney. She could read the truth in Sydney's eyes. Her father had been lied to about this. Nadia had no more to do with Jack Bristow than any other person on the earth. Arvin Sloane remained her Papa.

"They shouldn't have lied to you," Papa said, and it sounded as though he really meant it.

All she had to do was say the word, and he would believe her again. She could convince him, make him understand. And if she had not seen his coldness, his fury, his ugliness - Nadia knew she might have done it. The lure of Rambaldi was still strong; even more powerful was her desire for unconditional love.

But she knew now that Papa's - that Sloane's love was conditional. The love she'd sought all her life was worthless. Dust and ashes.

"They told me," Nadia said, forcing a proud smile. "Just wanted to see if you were still gullible, old man. And you are."

His face darkened as he stepped closer to her, and for the first time Nadia understood how he could take human life. "Your ingratitude -"

Nadia spun into a roundhouse kick with her left leg, catching the nearest guard in the throat, even as she punched out with her right fist. Sloane doubled over, retching. She could hear Sydney going after the other guard, but Nadia had no time to observe or help; her own fight was at hand, and if the guard got hold of his gun -

She took him down, both of them sprawling on the floor, and her sweat-damp palms slipped on the gun's barrel. But he was dazed, and Nadia was strong. As Sloane came up by then, ready to take his own action, Nadia wrested the weapon away and spun it toward his face.

"Nadia, don't!" Sydney called. She must have won her fight too.

Kill him or not? Why should Sydney care? Nadia told herself that it didn't matter if he was her father.

"You won't do it," Sloane said. "You care about Rambaldi's work, if nothing else. And you know I'm your only pathway back to him."

The dreams that had haunted her lifetime were now illumination. Nadia said, "I'm my own pathway."

Then she smashed Sloane in the face with the rifle. He went down, unconscious, and Nadia stared down at him. She still didn't know to feel - or if she could feel anything for this man now.

"You didn't do it," Sydney said as she came to Nadia's size. She had a red welt on her forehead that was going to swell, but otherwise looked fine. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Why? Because it would make me a killer? We're all killers, sooner or later."

"I know. That's not what I meant. Sloane might eventually be convinced to tell us why they fed us a false prophecy."

Nadia stared at her. "Don't you know? Haven't you figured it out?"

Sydney stared right back. "You have?"

Maybe if you hadn't had the dreams all your life, the leap of logic wasn't that simple. Or maybe the later visions, the ones revealed under the influence of the Rambaldi serum, were necessary to make it clear. No matter the reason, Nadia could read the truth as easily as though it were written in a book.

 "The unity of opposites," Nadia said. "That's important to Rambaldi. Man meeting machine, life meeting death. He likes duality." It felt surprisingly easy to speak of Rambaldi in the present tense.

"Duality?"

"They made up the false prophecy to keep us apart, Sydney. Why would they want to keep us apart?" She took Sydney's hand in hers for the first time, pleased that her grip was so strong and sure. "If we were together, we might be able to test our DNA together."

"Together. A synthesis." The gears were spinning now, and a smile began to spread across Sydney's face. "You mean - Sarah's not the cure. I'm not the cure."

Nadia held up their joined hands. "We're the cure."

**

II.


Had Jack had the time to spend on such matters, he might have discussed at length the profound lack of judgment displayed by Mr. Weiss and the battered Mr. Vaughn in allowing Sark anywhere near a weapons area - not to mention taking Sarah with them. But his anger had been undercut by Vaughn's quiet refusal of medical help.

"Jenny should stay with Irina," he'd said, wincing while Weiss started wrapping up his bleeding toe. "Sark didn't do anything that's going to leave lasting damage. Irina needs the help more."

Jack had had to pay close attention to the baby in his arms to conceal his reaction to Irina's name.  As far as Sarah was concerned, the crisis had passed some time ago; she drowsed peacefully against Jack's chest, tiny mouth puckering as she dreamed of food.

In reality, Jack cared little about Sark's betrayal and escape, Vaughn's kindness, even the unexpected unity between Sydney's two lovers. Sark was gone, Sarah was safe, and that meant he could only think about the fact that Irina was dying.

He had spent more than half his life convinced he had already lost her, and he'd thought he had felt that pain to its fullest long ago. But he'd been wrong. Losing her hurt as much the last time as it had the first, and the second, and the third. 

Once the ship was secure and Sarah placed to nap beside her father, Jack hurried back to the cabin. He found Jenny sitting at Irina's bedside, taking her pulse. Irina was motionless; even her hair lay in the same fever-damp tendrils as when he had left. He remembered her place on the bed as completely and accurately as any map he'd studied - the curve of her wrist against the blanket, the way her toes turned in, the pale, untroubled expanse of her forehead.

Her chest rose and fell, too fast and too shallow. At least he'd gotten back in time.

"No change," Dr. Lo said, unnecessarily. Jack left her to her work. On one level he almost wished the doctor weren't there; Irina was long past responding to his presence, but Jack might have found some comfort in lying next to her. He could not do so in front of the doctor, and that seemed to him not a weakness but a fact.

Sydney was gone, and Irina was going, and there was nothing for him to do - not just now, but for the rest of what promised to be his horribly extended life -- but stand and watch and wait.

Exhausted, he took his place in the chair across the room. As he sank down, Dr. Lo said, "You ought to eat something, you know. You've run yourself ragged."

"It can wait."

"I'll bring you a tray later on." That was as close as Dr. Lo had come to arguing with him. Jack let it pass.

What was the last thing Irina had said to him? He hadn't realized it was the last, nor had she. It was something inconsequential, something about the rain that had begun coming down outside. Now it pounded against the portholes, not quite monsoon-strength but close enough. Jack tried to tell himself that Irina would have liked the idea of departing in the heart of a storm.

A knock disturbed and annoyed him. "What?"

The guard opened the door just a crack, intruding as little as possible. "Long-range infrared picks up a vehicle headed toward us. The port's almost deserted - it could be anyone, but -"

"On my way." Only a threat to Sarah could have pulled him away now, but a threat was precisely what they were faced with. No shipping merchant would be out in this panic or in this storm.

But he hesitated just long enough for Dr. Lo to notice. Quietly, she said, "Irina won't know."

I'll know, Jack thought. But there was nothing for it, if Sarah's safety was at risk.

He hurried up to the rain-swept observation deck, hoping against hope this could be dealt with quickly. It would be just like Irina to slip out when he wasn't looking.

"They're within visual range now," the guard said. Rain had beaded up on his olive-green poncho, and Jack wished he'd taken the same precaution as water soaked through his shirt. "Just barely - this storm cuts down on visibility - but it looks like a single Jeep, two to three passengers, no convoy -"

Jack took the binoculars from him and peered into the gray wet. Sheets of rain blurred lines and created movement where there was none. But he glimpsed the Jeep, moving toward them - two passengers, at least that he could see - one of them bending out to peer around the windshield, as though that would help them see -

"Sydney."

"Sir?" The guard, who had never seen the ten-year-old Sydney's inability to keep a car window rolled up during summertime, looked unconvinced. "Agent Bristow, at this distance, visual ID -"

Jack shoved the binoculars back at him. "Lower the gangplank," he ordered, and without another word he began hurrying down. Let the guards think he was wrong or crazy. He knew his daughter was coming home.

As he made his way down the steps, gripping metal railings to fight the slippery decks and gusting winds, Jack realized that his ankle wasn't hurting - just the sight of Sydney had numbed him to any pain. He was glad for it as he made his way down the gangplank, just as the Jeep entered unaided visual range, great plumes of mud rising from its tires. This way, he didn't need a cane to come out to her; he didn't have to wait one single unnecessary second before ---

"Dad!" Her voice rang out above the thunder, and then he saw her: soaked to the skin, hair plastered against her scalp. Behind the wheel, Nadia braked hard, slopping mud against his shoes. Jack didn't care, not when Sydney jumped out of the Jeep and ran into his arms.

He couldn't hug her tightly enough. She was back. Sydney was back. "You made it," he said, cradling her face in his hands. Her smile made the raindrops run down her cheeks, and the sight of it repaired something deep inside he'd thought was broken forever. "Sweetheart, you made it."

"You let me go."

"I love you." He hadn't said that to her in a very long time, something he'd remembered every hour since her departure. As soon as he'd blurted it out, he felt awkward, but perhaps it didn't matter. "I wanted you to know that."

"I do know. And I love you too." Sydney's smile vanished in an instant as she clutched his shirt. "Mom - is she -"

"She's still alive."

"We made it in time." She took his hands in hers, as if trying to impress her newfound knowledge through his very skin. "Dad, we brought back some of the vaccine, but we also think we've figured out the cure. We need Marshall, now."

Jack had never realized how stupefying hope could be; it slowed his thinking and froze his body - for only a second, but longer than anything else had ever had the power to do. "Yes," he finally managed to say. "Marshall's still working in the lab. Go to him -"

"We both go." Sydney reached back out toward Nadia, who was walking tentatively toward them. "The cure's both of us, Dad. A synthesis of our DNA - the cure isn't the opposite of the disease, it's part of it - do you see?"

He didn't, but he trusted Sydney. "Just go. Marshall will understand."

Nadia spoke, her intensity reminding him strongly of Irina. "We brought someone back with us - you should see."

He followed her gaze to see Arvin Sloane, bound in the back of the Jeep, unconscious in the rain. In his relief at seeing Sydney, Jack had not grabbed a gun on his way off the ship. If he had, he knew he would have placed the muzzle against Sloane's forehead and blown him away. It was the only thing that could have made this moment sweeter.

Then he glanced back at Sydney, sopping wet and beaming at him through the rain, and decided the moment didn't need any improvement at all. "The guards will throw Sloane in a cell," he said. "We have more important things to do."

**

"You two have blown my mind, and that, my friends, is not easily done." Marshall was typing so fast that Jack half expected the keyboard to begin giving off sparks. "I never tried configuring this model to read for two DNA strands instead of one. And the thing is, the two DNA strands would have to be really, really similar - but yours are, what with the whole sisterhood thing and all."

"It's about duality," Nadia said, toweling her hair. The band-aid in the crook of her elbow was unnaturally pale against her olive skin. Jack was unaccustomed to hearing anyone speak of Rambaldi with such matter-of-fact certainty; more common reactions were religious fervor or pure confusion. Perhaps Nadia was the only one who had ever really understood - because she was the one meant to understand. "Rambaldi always created both halves: strength and weakness, man and machine, cure and disease."

Sydney held the cotton pad against her own elbow, frowning. "I still don't understand. If Rambaldi wanted to cure the Rain of Gold, why did he create it in the first place?"

Nadia sat down opposite her, and Jack was struck again by the similarity of their profiles, their posture, even the way they sat. "Think about how much of Rambaldi's power we're only now learning to use - the devices, the DNA, all of it. For centuries, humanity was safe from Rambaldi's works only because nobody possessed the knowledge to create them. I think - I think Rambaldi meant the Rain of Gold to be a test."

"Of what?" Jack didn't understand. "Technological capability?"

"He could have used anything for that," Nadia replied. "No, Rambaldi wanted to know if his followers would be the kind of people who would use his creations to do great good or great evil. That's why he exaggerated the immunities people could expect from their bloodlines. The Rain of Gold - immortality - that was the temptation. If his followers were willing to kill billions to save their own lives, then Rambaldi knew they couldn't be trusted with his power."

"The plague would have killed everyone," Sydney whispered. "Nobody would have been truly immune. Rambaldi would have destroyed the whole world -"

"In one great fire, rather than let his followers use his work to do it over decades. But he knew that if others had the power and the ability to stop them - if they valued the cure more than immortality - then there were people in the world who could be trusted with his work. And with the Passenger intended to interpret it." Nadia's smile was tired. "And with the older sister whose greater destiny is still waiting."

Jack stared at her; what had Nadia's dreams shown her about Sydney?

He had no time to ask before the door swung open, revealing the rain-soaked forms of Vaughn and Weiss. Quickly Jack took Sarah from Vaughn's arms, allowing him to embrace Sydney. "Your face," she whispered. "Vaughn, you're hurt. What happened?"

"Sark. He escaped. I'm fine, and Sarah's fine. The rest doesn't matter."

To Jack's surprise, Sydney then turned from Vaughn to hug Weiss, just as tightly and passionately as she had for Vaughn. Weiss didn't seem to know whether to return the embrace or dodge it, but he settled for putting his hands gingerly on her back. Then Vaughn, instead of punching Weiss, put his arms around Nadia for a moment, long enough to make her beam up at him.

This situation would require complex analysis. Later.

Marshall was staring at the four of them with raised eyebrows, but when the computer chimed, he spun back to the monitor. "Yes. Oh, yes. That's right, baby. Come to Papa."

"Have you got it?" Sydney stepped closer, staring at the rotating strands of DNA even as she retrieved Sarah from Jack's arms, preparing to nurse her.

"I think we have ourselves a winner, sports fans." Marshall hit a couple of keys, and the centrifuge began whirling. "Hang on."

Hang on, Jack repeated in his mind, knowing Irina could not hear.

**

III.


While Marshall worked, Vaughn watched Sydney for a long time; she was nursing Sarah, who obviously liked this much better than his fumbling attempts with the bottle. For her part, Sydney seemed profoundly relieved, leaning her head back against the wall as she held the baby close. When her eyes were open, she was studying Marshall's computer screen, still intent on the cure she'd risked her life to find.

That made it okay for Vaughn to watch her, to gather his own thoughts. And to watch Weiss watching her.

The best thing about it was that the love in Weiss' face wasn't just for Sydney; Vaughn could see that it was for Sarah, too - for both of them. That was the worst thing about it, too.

"I want you to carry that weight forever," Sark had said. He'd been more right than he knew. Vaughn didn't have any trouble letting go of Lauren, or for that matter anything done on her behalf. Her memory wouldn't haunt him. But the memory of the man Vaughn had become from hatred of her - that would haunt him for a long time to come. Maybe even forever.

Weiss wasn't haunted like that, and he never would be. It wasn't in his nature.

Maybe sensing Vaughn's eyes on him, Weiss turned away from Sydney. "Guys, I'm gonna go wait with Jack and Nadia. See you in there." He was out of the room in a shot.

"All righty," Marshall said, more to the spinning DNA strands in front of him than the others in the room. "I'm gonna grab some extra equipment for this puppy. Get the next batch started as soon as this one's done."

Vaughn offered, "I can go -"

"No, no. I know where it is. You guys just keep an eye on this, okay?" Marshall ran out into the rain, and finally they were alone.

Finally. It felt like he'd been waiting to say this for weeks, not as if he hadn't just realized it. "We ought to talk." 

"Yeah, I know. Now that we actually have a future, we have to face it." Sydney offered a finger for Sarah to grasp as she nursed, still looking down at their daughter. "I kept thinking I'd know what I wanted to say. And I still don't."

"What you wanted to say." That choice of words was important. "Not what you wanted to decide."

Sydney finally met his eyes, still and sure. "No. I've known that for a while now."

It helped that his next words were the truth: "That's what I chose, too. For us to - to go our own ways."

That sounded softer than "break up." And yet it sounded truer as well.

 She nodded, and Vaughn had sworn to himself a dozen times that when this moment came, he wouldn't cry. He kept that promise, though it was difficult as Sydney said, "It's not that I don't still love you, Vaughn. I do. I always will. And Sarah -"

"-is the best thing that ever happened in our lives," Vaughn finished for her. "I'm always going to love you too, Sydney. But too much happened. We got split too far apart. It wasn't something we did; it's something that was done to us. And it never should have happened - but it happened. We can't pretend it didn't."

He wasn't even sure he was the same man who'd fallen in love with Sydney all those years ago; he didn't know if he could find that kind of hope and trust in his heart ever again. If he could, he intended to give every bit of that energy to being Sarah's dad. Sydney needed someone stable, someone with his feet rooted into the earth, somebody who knew who he was. Vaughn wasn't ever going to be that guy again.

But he knew who could.

"You and Weiss - it's going to be hard, for me. I can't help that."

"I haven't talked to Eric. I couldn't, not until I'd talked to you."

"But you love him." She nodded, and it was easier than Vaughn would've thought to smile. "If I have to lose you to anybody, I'm glad it's him."

She started to blink back tears, either because of his words about Weiss or what she had to say. "And you - you and Nadia?"

"Oh, God. I don't know." Whatever he had with Nadia was as the harder, more broken man he was now. Nadia had seen that in him and responded to it, which was either a really good sign or a really bad one. Could it be both? "I can't even think about that yet." 

"Well, I like her," Sydney said. "But - yeah. It's going to take a while." They both ended up staring down at Sarah for a few minutes; their baby was still nursing hungrily, as though he'd never fed her at all. "We'll always share her."

"Always."

"I just - I wanted to say -- after Danny, when I didn't think I could find a reason to go on, you saved me. Everything about me that really mattered - I held on to that because of you." Tears were running down her face again as she finished, "Vaughn - thank you. For loving me, and being there."

It will never really be over, Vaughn thought. No matter how long we live, no matter how happy she is with Weiss or I learn to be with Nadia or whoever - this is always going to be between us.

He didn't know if that was a burden or a gift. Maybe time would tell.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he got out of his chair and kissed Sydney, hard and deep, like it was the beginning instead of the end. It hurt, knowing it was the last time, but Vaughn wasn't sorry.

**

IV.


Her head hurt.

That was the first thing Irina was sure of. She couldn't remember if the headache was the result of jet lag or a fight or an especially good vintage of Bordeaux, but it didn't feel serious. Some painkiller would take care of it.

Could she get up from bed without waking Jack and take a few Bayer tablets in the bathroom? Wait - no. That was long ago. She would have to ask the prison matron for some - and if the matron didn't bring it up with Cuvee, no painkillers would be forthcoming. Maybe not even if she did talk to Cuvee; he liked to leave Irina in pain, sometimes. No, that was wrong too.  Was she in Katya's home in Vladivostok? Surely she would be able to smell breakfast cooking if she were. In a campsite? On a plane? In her cell at the CIA?

"Irina, can you hear me?"

That was Jack's voice. Maybe she was at home after all. Maybe all those years were only a dream.

"Mom?" That was Sydney - but she wasn't a little girl, not any longer. And Irina could hear the soft cooing of a baby.

Sarah.

Irina knew where she was, and when she was, and in that moment she realized that by all rights she should be dead. But instead, she felt - awful, but better.

She opened her eyes; the light hurt, and when she winced, Jack called, "Flip the switch." Then the room turned a more soothing gray, but she could still see Jack and Sydney sitting on either side of her, Sarah in Sydney's arms. Nadia stood at the foot of the bed, beside Marshall and the doctor; Vaughn and Weiss were at the door. Each of them wore the same half-disbelieving smile - except for Jack, whose still face could not hide the relief and happiness in his eyes.

"You found the cure," she said. Her voice hurt in her throat.

"Just in time," Marshall said. "We were originally looking for something with a structure similar to an antiviral drug, like AZT to the max, but it turns out the cure's a virus too. Just a virus that goes in and wipes out the Rain of Gold, first thing. Pretty freakin' cool. Also, wow, quick. We only dosed you a couple hours ago."

As he babbled, Irina felt Jack's hand close over hers. She still felt wrung-out and weak, but she was able to lace their fingers together. She should be dead; Irina had never been unable to understand her absence from the later Rambaldi prophecies in any other way. But maybe, instead, it was evidence that Rambaldi had finally let her go.

For the first time in her life, she was truly free.

Everyone began narrating the story of the last few hours - the cure was both Sydney and Nadia, apparently, and Sark had done something she'd need to discuss with him later, on and on - but the words tumbled past her as she simply held Jack's hand. He alone was silent, watching her as though he still thought she might slip away.

It was Sydney's voice that first stood out from the clamor and formed a definite impression in Irina's mind. "We have to deliver the cure worldwide in a matter of weeks. Days would be better. Do we have the resources to do that?"

"We tell the world media, set up vaccination stations - this isn't exactly a vaccine, I guess, but same difference." Weiss ran one hand through his hair; he looked less tired than any of the others, which meant he looked exhausted. "It depends on how fast we can make the stuff, I guess."

"Tricky," Marshall said. "Even with our two willing guinea pigs here - sorry, Syd, Nadia - it's gonna take a while to create as much as we'd need for everyone. I guess we'd need to start with the sickest people first. How do we figure out who those are?"

"Assuming everyone would accept them," Jack said. "Some nations don't have the infrastructure or cultural background to accept mass inoculation. Some would assume it was a Western plot - another means of spreading the Rain of Gold, not ending it."

Thank God these people got to me in time, Irina thought. Otherwise, they'd never figure out what to do. "You don't have to make much," she rasped. "It's a virus. It reproduces itself. Get it out into the populace, and it will spread of its own accord."

Marshall lit up. "You mean - basically, we give the whole world cowpox, and then they never have to worry about smallpox again."

"We still have to create enough to start the contagion," Nadia said. "But we can start now, if Marshall's ready."

"Marshall has more important things to do," Irina insisted. She squeezed Jack's hand; understanding, he helped her sit up. The room wobbled for a moment, but she leaned against his shoulder as she got her bearings again. "Did none of you ever ask yourselves why I'd spent so much time working with biological weapons?"

Sydney's eyes went wide. "You were looking for something like this?"

To Irina's surprise, it was Vaughn who grasped the essential point first. "And you figured out how to incubate an enormous amount of bioweapon material quickly." He looked at Sydney as he continued, "The Mueller device. The one that nearly drowned us, the one that made me sick five years ago. Remember?"

"Like I could forget an enormous C-clamp with a ball of water the size of a three-story building." Sydney's sarcasm belied the smile spreading across her face. "If we build one of those -"

"You'll have all the raw material you need within two days," Irina said.

"This is all great news," Weiss said, "but we can't exactly order a Rambaldi artifact from the Sharper Image catalog."

"Hello? Seen the blueprints. Photographic memory." Marshall pointed at his head. "Lead me to the spare parts, people. It's MacGyver time." 

**

V.


Sydney muttered, "It's bigger than I remembered."

She stared up at the vast red circumference of the Mueller Device. The enormous globe at the center rotated, heavy and mysterious; within it, Sydney could hear the slow currents of water that formed its tides. This was the first Rambaldi device she'd ever seen - the first and, ultimately, the greatest. Because this was the one that was curing the Rain of Gold.

"See this?" she said to Sarah, who was staring raptly at the big red ball. "Your grandmother made this."

What the hell, Sydney figured. I won't ever get to say that about a pan of brownies. 

Marshall had managed to reconstruct a Mueller device in only a few days. Her mother gave instructions from her sickbed; whenever Jenny popped a thermometer in her mouth, Mom simply scribbled notes or blueprints with her free hand. Within a week, they'd been able to start distribution - and even now, the cure was spreading through the United States and Southeast Asia. Tomorrow's shipment would get progress started in Australia and Europe, moving ever outward, most affected to least, until the world was finally clean of Sloane's evil.

Sloane remained in his makeshift cell deep within the hold of the nearby ship. Sydney had not seen him; if she ever did, she would want her family with her. All of her family, so Sloane could see that he had been unable to rip them apart -

--all except Sarah. Sydney was determined that Sloane should never see her daughter at all.

"There you are."

Sydney half-turned to see her father coming toward her. "Dad. Is Mom okay?" Usually her father didn't leave her mother's side unless it was necessary.

"Fine. Even better today. She's walking around the cabin by herself now." He paused, then admitted, "She threatened me if I didn't give her some private time."

"And it won't be long before she can back it up," Sydney said. "So you made a tactical retreat."

"Precisely." Her father hadn't realized she was joking, which just made it funnier; Sydney cuddled Sarah a little closer in order to give herself an excuse for grinning. "So I thought I would come find you. Both of you."

Without further prompting, Sydney settled Sarah in Dad's arms. Sarah blinked up at him for a moment, then returned her attention to the ever-fascinating Mueller device. Sydney profoundly hoped that this was just a newborn's natural response to the color red, and not some nascent Derevko attraction to all things Rambaldi.

Dad only had eyes for Sarah. "She looks so much like your mother. And like you."

"But with your curly hair." It was a better inheritance than the ears, Sydney thought. "So, when we get back to Los Angeles, can I count on you for babysitting?"

She meant it as a joke, and was instantly humbled when her father simply nodded. "Certainly."

"You seem like the last person in the world who'd like babies. But you do, don't you?"

Her father considered that for a moment. "Babies are - uncomplicated."

"Got it."

All at once Sydney remembered that Dixon had said something like that once, long ago when they were first working together and Stephen was no more than a toddler. She could hear his deep voice, comforting and strong as they flew back from one of their early missions - Shanghai, perhaps, or Milan. "Children center you, Sydney. When they're little - you can figure out what they need, and give it to them. And nothing else can make you as happy as being able to take care of the person you love most in the world."

If only she could have shown Sarah to Dixon. If only she'd had a chance to see her Aunt Katya once again, after learning the truth. And Carrie, and Judy Barnett, so many thousands that she'd never known - it was all such a waste. And for all the courage and intelligence her parents had shown, Sydney knew that if they had made different decisions, if they had been less guarded, less obsessed with their own pasts, none of this might ever have had to happen.

But if they had been any less strong, Sloane might have won after all. 

"Are you all right?" Dad asked, concerned by her silence. She wondered if he missed the days when he could care for her as easily as he did for Sarah - when food and warmth and shelter were all she could need, and she couldn't know how imperfect his love for her would always be. Probably he did.

"Just remembering who we've lost." Sydney shook her head. "It's going to be hard, going back to Los Angeles and not finding any of them there."

"When we return home, will Vaughn be - traveling with you?" This was as close as Dad had come to prying into her love life.

"No. He won't. That's what we both decided."

Her father looked suspicious of Vaughn - what else was new? - but not angry. "Then - you and Weiss -"

"I hope so. Eric and I haven't had a chance to talk. He took off with that first shipment, and I haven't spoken to him yet. After we all meet up in California - then I'll know more." It was just like Eric, to bury himself in work so he could forget a broken heart. Sydney hoped he'd come back soon so she could unbreak that heart, and hers too. "When we go back to L.A., everything will have changed."

"We'll have a lot of work to do. But it's past time we took Sarah home." What was it about a grandchild that made it easier for her father to smile than he ever had for his daughter? Sydney thought she might've been jealous, if it weren't for her own happiness as her father tested Sarah's weight in his arms. "She's growing so fast."

"Big strong healthy girl," Sydney said with pride. "Already her newborn clothes don't fit her anymore. It breaks my heart."

"She'll never stop changing. But she'll always be your daughter."

Sydney knew who her father was really talking about, though he never met her eyes. Maybe Dad would never stop camouflaging his love for her behind a mission or duty or their shared love for Sarah, but that was all right. His disguises didn't hide the truth from her any longer.

THE END

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