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Title: Enemies in Disguise |
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Sydney’s words had cut him like a thin piece of paper brushing quickly past his hand. Nothing deep, drawing no blood...but nothing drew Jack Bristow’s blood. Nothing had in almost thirty years. Still, the words echoed insistently, insidiously infiltrating his thoughts and speech. We're friends, you and I. What? You'd consider us friends? Of course, he and Devlin weren’t friends. Jack never asked a question he didn’t already know the answer to. His last friendship had ended when Sloane recruited his only child into SD-6. Friends were enemies in disguise, he mused as he stared uncomfortably at the man standing – but only barely – before him. Looking as though he might spontaneously collapse, Will stumbled closer to Jack and embraced him. “Thank you,” Will whispered earnestly. “Thank you.” * * * Neon lights flashed around them, advertising wares, sexual and otherwise. Jack commanded the road, keenly aware that they needed to be at the airport and on the plane within the hour. He glanced at Will, careful to conceal his surprise. He was still shocked by the amount of blood that had coagulated on the younger man’s face. Who was this man who had risked his life to find an ever-elusive shred of truth for Sydney? More importantly, why hadn’t Will punched him back in the alley? Will caught Jack’s hesitant look. “I don’t know how to thank you.” “For getting you tortured, maimed, and nearly killed?” Jack asked in a tone that danced between matter-of-fact and ironic. Will shook his head. “For finding me,” he replied guilelessly, his voice earnest and his words unchecked. “For saving my life.” * * * Jack found the airport quickly enough, but couldn’t find Sydney or Vaughn. He dialed her cell phone again and again, pacing the hangar while Will sat propped against a crate, face still bloody. Jack sensed Will’s eyes following his path, but ignored his stare until he heard Will’s tentative voice. “Not that I know Sydney better than you do...” “Oh, you probably do,” Jack retorted dismissively. “...but she can take care of herself.” Jack stared at him, clearly unconvinced. Will rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?” Jack crossed his arms and continued pacing while he determined the simplest way to convey the gravity of the situation to a man only recently acquainted with high stakes espionage. “You see, Will, Sydney should have been back,” he said, as if explaining the rules of the playground to a potentially traitorous kindergartener. “The fact that she’s not indicates that she’s encountered something or someone hostile. Every minute we spend here, the chances increase exponentially that the Taiwanese authorities will find us. Waiting is dangerous.” Will shrugged. “Waiting is what friends do. It’s what fathers do, too.” * * * Having given up on calling Sydney, Jack turned his attention to his injured companion. He hunted through a first aid kit, setting aside a bottle of alcohol and a small container of painkillers. He grabbed the latter and shook the small pills into his hand. He offered a fistful to Will and some water. “What does the label say?” Will asked, his words slightly slurred by his swollen jaw. His eyes darted between the pills in Jack’s hand and the glass of liquid that smelled like it had been siphoned off a gas tank. “It says to do what I exactly what I tell you to do,” Jack replied. He watched as Will nervously gulped down the dose. Then Jack removed his shirt and doused the corner of his shirttail with alcohol. “Close your eyes while I try to clean you up a little.” Will winced as the alcohol mingled with his bleeding cut. “What did you give Sark?” “Something of great value to him,” Jack responded, dabbing Will’s wound more forcefully in response to the question. “Think it was a fair trade?” “Sydney does. You’re her friend,” Jack explained. “Friends do these things for each other – or so I’m told.” Eyes still closed, Will tried to smile, but he let out a quiet groan instead. “That may just make us friends, Jack.” Satisfied that Will’s wound was clean enough, Jack stood up and walked over to the trashcan, discarding the stained cloth. He looked back at Will, who had opened his eyes. “You’d consider us friends?” Will made a second attempt to smile, producing yet another groan. “I think I would.”
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