Title: The Five Stages of Grief

Author: Duck

Genre: Angst.

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: Anytime after 'Phase One'

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Although, if the world were perfect, Michael Vartan would belong to me.

Distribution: Cover Me, Allies, SD-1, anyone else, just ask.

A/N: I did my research on. york-united-kingdom.co.uk/funerals/grief/. It's a pretty good read.

Summary: When grieving due to a loss or bereavement there are considered to be 5 stages

Denial: a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality.


The man waiting shifted uncomfortably in a plastic chair, hoping his spine would conform to the straight-backed edge.


"William Tippin?" Will looked up sharply, the older woman watching him patiently from the doorframe. He rose awkwardly, trying not to trip over the other chairs as he followed the doctor into her office. Credentials hung ceremoniously, covering the dull beige wallpaper, and giving Will the sense of being in the principal's office.


The woman settled herself behind a desk, arranging papers, and settling her glasses on the edge of her nose. Staring up expectantly at the hesitant man before her, she motioned to the seat across, hoping he would take the hint. As he settled, she took in his appearance. Haggard, frustrated, and definitely laced with fatigue.


Nodding and allowing a thin smile to grace her lips, the woman introduced herself. "I'm Dr. Judy Barnett. One thing was unclear to me, is this visit by request, or was it ordered?"


Will glanced nervously at the clipboard she was holding before replying, "Both, actually."


"Oh?" she asked, eyebrows rose. "You are an undercover analyst, correct?"


"Yes." Will confirmed, "I started a few months ago. I was recruited after discovering my friend was an agent."


"Sydney Bristow?"


"Yes." Will looked at her, frustrated. "But I'm not here to talk about myself."


"Then why are you here, Mr. Tippin?" Dr. Barnett asked casually, trying to calm him.


"Sydney is in denial, and we can't snap her into reality," Will explained, eyes downcast, "We don't know what to do."


"What is she denying, exactly?"


Tears filled Will's eyes, and his throat began to block up. After trying unsuccessfully to regain composure he managed to choke out something incoherent.


"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to repeat that."


"Francie-her friend--our friend- was killed. Mur--murdered." A single tear coursed its way down Will's cheek, dripping onto his tightly folded hands. Clearing his throat, he continued slowly.


"We didn't realize she was dead for a long time. Even now, we're not completely sure how--how long she's been dead."


Dr. Barnett's eyes glanced up swiftly from her notes. "Was she missing?"


A twisted smile worked its way onto Will's features. His voice returned completely, allowing him to speak clearly. "Only in spirit."


Lifting his eyes into her curious gaze, Will repeated everything he had been told. "There was a machine or treatment -something- that could transform a certain gene sequence to match that of another. The person who received this 'gene therapy' could take on the physical characteristics of another human being. Francie was the first test subject that was successful. Sydney and I had almost no idea that Francie wasn't the same person - they looked exactly alike. There were a few things that were off, of course. New Francie didn't have her memories or feelings, so we both got a strange vibe from her.


"A few months after SD-6's takedown, Sydney was out on a date, leaving Francie and I alone. She drew a gun and was about to kill me when Syd and her date walked in. I guess the movie had been sold out, but anyway, Mike had a gun on him, so he drew that. Francie shot him, and while she was distracted, I tackled her. Sydney got the gun, but Francie found Michael's. They both sort of stared at each other, and Syd asked her, 'How could you Francie, and how long have you hated me?' Francie answered, 'Francie died months ago. I killed her with a single bullet.'


"I don't really know what happened after that because I blacked out, but when I woke up, Francie was dead, and Sydney was standing over Michael. We got him to a hospital, and Francie to the CIA," Will finished tiredly, glancing through the blinded windows to his left.


Dr. Barnett surveyed him silently, and urged him on when he showed no signs of continuing. "Is she refusing to admit that Francie is dead?"


Sighing deeply, he thought back to the week after, and only the day before. "She does Fran's laundry, or will set a place for her at dinner. She rented Francie's favorite movie because she thought the restaurant was having problems. I've lost count of how many times she's called me, asking why the restaurant was closed. And when she'd go visit Mike in the hospital, she'd always tell him that he needed to be more careful on missions, like that was where he got shot. We've both tried telling her, even her father has tried, but she just won't listen," he concluded, the tears continuing their journey across his cheekbones.


"How long has it been?" Dr. Barnett handed Will a tissue box, glad he was able to freely express his emotions.


"Nearly three weeks. Mike just got out of the hospital, so that's helping, but we want her to realize Francie is not coming back."


After writing a few notes to herself, Dr. Barnett gave Will a kind smile. Adjusting her glasses, she spoke softly, "I'm afraid there isn't anything we can do. Sydney is going through the first stage of grief. Denial is common, but untreatable. There are a few things you can do, such as reminding her of the funeral, and make sure you do not play along. If she sets an extra place, put it away. Considering that this is Ms. Bristow, she will most likely return to reality with a breakdown. The only thing that you can do is be there for her." She rose gracefully from her chair to shake Will's hand. "It was good to talk to you, Mr. Tippin. Feel free to stop by anytime."


Will smiled sadly as he headed towards the door. Before walking through, he turned around and asked quietly, "Mike and I have been trying to get Sydney in here, but she refuses. If--when she gets through the denial, what should we expect?"


Dr. Barnett sighed tiredly, sitting back down at her desk. "Anger. She'll blame everyone, especially herself."


Will looked at his shoes, saddened, before slowly walking out.