They don't tell Jack Bristow what has happened. They don't need to. He knows what Sydney's done the moment they leave him alone in the shower: he submits to the barber and accepts the suit, too large after the last year. After that there's a journey by car, shorter than he expected, and nothing else is real until his daughter is in his arms. Thinner, harder than he remembers.
All through Dixon's reserved welcome--and why not? Jack had the man's job, once--and those of his other colleagues, he has to stop himself from reaching out to her again.
And then another homecoming. She waits until he's out of CIA-owned property and in his own apartment, but that very night, once Sydney has arranged his meager furniture and left, he hears a window slide open. He might have done more to secure his quarters, he supposes.
"You shouldn't be here," he says.
He doesn't need light to see her eyes slant as she smiles. "You aren't compromised." He knows how careful she is, how careful they both are--in everything but this one thing, the feel of muscle sliding under skin, the press of his wife's mouth against his.
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Alias is owned by JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Production, and ABC. No copyright infringement intended, and no profit made. Original story elements my own.