Topic 23: Pain

[a_sloane]

There are five basic torture groups, every agent learns. Blunt, sharp, cold, hot and loud.

It is a mystery to me why no one mentioned silence.

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[a_sloane]

"No," he protests, not quite knowing what it is he denies - one of her charges, or all of them, or the realization that in every way that mattered, her charges were true. At the moment when he pushed her aside to save page 47 out of the fire, he had not meant to kill her, true. He had not even been aware that there was anything she could fall into. But at that moment, he had betrayed her, he had made a choice, the reverse choice he had made when he shot her, and that one push had been a far worse betrayal than the shot fired with lethal intent. Not to mention that she never would have ended in a coma if he had not added the Rambaldi formula to so many water supplies. In every way that counted, she has been his sacrifice.

"So what is your explanation for it all, Nadia?" he asks. "Why did you call me back, when I had been ready to die? I told you there was no place for monsters in this world, did I not? There has to be a reason why you were allowed to guide me back."

There is no life in her eyes, and he looks elsewhere, at his own scarred hand. He remembers her last breath, remembers the blood on his hands. Remembers making that last choice, taking the manuscript and leaving.

"There is an irony I cannot resolve," he says. "I turned my back on Rambaldi for you, and I had to kill you. I turned my back on you for Rambaldi, and I had to kill you. Tell me, Nadia, what was it that made either choice any less a betrayal?"

[if_ihadknown]

"You really thought you were ready to die? Open arms extended outward like some sort of Christ like symbol ready to move onto the higher plane? Perhaps it wasn't even the higher plane you were seeking. All the crimes you've done and I doubt you've felt a single shred of remorse."

She pauses and tilts her head at him rubbing her hand below her wound giving the impression that the skin felt tight, but there was no skin to really feel. Nothing to feel at all. "Betrayal isn't something you should have to balance out. It is already balanced with the betrayal. Your mindless banter may be getting the better of you now, but I dare to wonder if there was ever a better to get."

She moves closer to him, and would kneel down before him as if to pay homage to him for all his wonders, but instead she just smiles a wicked grin at him, "I'm not your guide Father. I'll never let you back into my life. Don't you get it? The betrayal can't be reversed now. It's this way forever. And ever."

[a_sloane]

"You are still young," he says, paradoxically given a sliver of hope by her last thrust, because she suddenly reminds him of her sister. "Forever is a very long time, Nadia. Sydney told me the same thing once, and so did Jack. And I told them we would work together again. They didn't believe me then, but so we did."

As soon as he has said it, he's afraid she'll leave him again. Because that is the secret, really. He can deal with hatred. He can even use hatred, at times, though with Nadia, as opposed to everyone else save Emily, he never wished to evoke it. Still, hatred is something, being hated is life, hatred is being a part of someone's life. It is indifference that shuts you out.

"A single shred of remorse," he says, trying out the phrase, both because he actually wonders and because he wants to distract her. "Oh, I felt more than that, Nadia, but not for what you probably mean by my crimes in the general sense. No, I never felt remorse for what is so quaintly called "heading a terrorist organization". Were you surprised when the CIA didn't just offer me a second pardon agreement but hired me to create APO for them? I wasn't. There is no difference, really. What I did for the CIA, what I did for the Alliance, and then the CIA again - frankly, I never understood why I should feel guilty for the same actions without a goverment stamp of approval."

He looks at her, her dark hair, and remembers South America. The generals. Argentina. Chilé. Was that where the idea started? If I can do this for these incompetents in Washington, why not for myself?

At the same time, he knows he's prevaricating. She's not talking about this at all when she refers to his crimes.

"Remorse," he says, "to me implies that you wish the action undone, and if you could go back in time, would undo it. And here lies my difficulty, Nadia. There are actions I regret, believe it or not. But there are not many I can wish undone. Take Sydney. I regret all the pain I caused her, but there is just one action I would reverse if I could, and it is not recruiting her, or even the order to kill that boy she was engaged to. All of this made her the woman she became, and I cannot wish it undone. No, the one thing I would change if I could, the action I would take back... I would not hire Alison Doren to replace her friend."

For a moment, he cannot recall the name of the girl. Then it comes back to him. Francie. That was the name. But perhaps the moment it took to remember is an answer to itself: it is not the girl herself he feels remorse for, just the pain her death caused Sydney.

"Emily," he continues. "Any pain I caused Emily. I always felt guilt for that. I always will. But my betrayal of her resulted in you. How can I wish it undone?"

There she is, his daughter, or what is left of her. Who is this? the Emily of his memories had asked when Nadia had come to guide him back to reality, when there still had been a living, breathing Nadia to call him back, and he had replied: "This is my Nadia."

"But you," he says. "Any pain I caused you. Any single one. I wish it undone. There is no point to it, though, is there? It is irreversible, as you said. And so, Nadia, there is no point to remorse."