Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.
Rating: PG for mild language.
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Author's Note: I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction. I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research. Now, if the Honorable Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.
Chapter Ten – Remember Me
By Tuesday evening, Sydney was sick of Dr. Carson. She was full of questions and no one would give her any answers. She wondered who she was and why they wouldn't tell her who she was. She wondered why she only had two visitors. She also wondered what was going on in the hallway. She thought that there was an unusual amount of people in the hallway outside her room. She had opened her door and counted eight very serious looking men before Carson escorted her back to bed.
The door opened and man walked timidly into her room. She watched him as he approached. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and had a sympathetic smile on his face.
"Hi, Syd," Will said. He waited, hoping to see a spark of recognition in her eyes. He saw none. "I'm Will Tippin." Still no spark. "I'm a friend. Actually, we've been friends for years." He was obviously nervous. He held out the flowers to her. "These are for you."
"Of course they are," she said sardonically. She saw the hurt look on his face and regretted the comment. She had no reason to take out her frustration on him. She looked down at the flowers. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
Will sat nervously on the arm of a chair. "So, uh, you don't recognize me at all, do you?"
"No, I don't," Sydney said. "Maybe if you tell me something about yourself and how you fit into my life." Sydney was certain that Carson had already coached this guy, but she had a feeling that she might be able to get some information out of him. He didn't seem nearly as cold as the others.
"We met in college. You saved my ass in freshman chemistry, and I've been indebted to you ever since," he smiled whenever he thought about that chemistry class. What a blessing in disguise that had been.
Sydney smiled too. "So, we've both graduated, right?"
"Yes, but you're in grad school now. I'm just a journalist, paying my dues at The Times."
Sydney smiled this time because talking with him was the most productive thing she'd done all day. "And we're still friends now? I mean we see each other often?"
Will laughed, "You've threatened to charge me rent."
"But we're just friends? We've never dated?" she asked.
"Just friends," Will nodded. Sydney thought that she detected some regret in his voice, but she couldn't be sure.
"Okay, Will Tippin, if we're such good friends, then I can trust you to tell me the truth about what has happened. Why can't I remember anything?"
Will started shaking his head before she even completed her question, "Syd, I can't… I mean, I don't know."
"Why won't anyone give me a straight answer around here? How bad can it possibly be? Do I have a brain tumor? Have I committed some awful crime? Have I lost my entire family? Does nobody have the balls to tell me the truth?"
Sydney had raised her voice loud enough that Dr. Carson came running into the room with two men in suits following close behind. "What is going on here?!" Carson gave Will an accusatory glare.
Sydney felt protective of him for some reason, and spoke before Will had a chance, "I'll tell you what is going on here! I'm tired of you censoring my life! I'm tired of you sending in your puppets to give me small bits of information but not answering a single significant question!"
Dr. Carson came closer to Sydney's bed. "Please calm down, Sydney. I promise you…"
"I will not calm down! Look, you either start telling me about my life, or I'm checking myself out of this hospital, right now! Doctor's release or not!"
"Yes, Sydney," Carson was using his most soothing voice. "It is time that we start that process." Carson turned to Will and said, "Mr. Tippin, I'm going to ask that you leave for now. If you want to visit Ms. Bristow again, come by around lunch time tomorrow."
"Okay," Will said softly. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a framed picture. He handed it to Sydney. She looked at the picture and then back at him. "That's you, me, and Francie, your roommate. At your birthday party last year."
Sydney looked at the photo and touched it gingerly as if that might help her to remember. She looked him in the eyes. "Thank you, Will. Please come back tomorrow, okay?"
Will gave her a genuine smile. "You couldn't keep me away." Will wanted to hug her, but decided against it.
As Will was leaving the room, Carson spoke to the two men in suits that were still standing near the door, "Could one of you get Vaughn in here?"
*****
After Weiss drove Will to the hospital and escorted him to Sydney's room, he went in search of Vaughn. After asking three different agents, he found Vaughn in a makeshift office in a room down the hall from Sydney's.
Weiss knocked on the door and stuck his head in, "Hey Vaughn, you got a minute?"
Vaughn didn't even bother to look up from his laptop, "Actually, no."
"Too bad," Weiss said and walked in the room. The door closed automatically behind him.
Vaughn was sitting at the small table working on his laptop computer. A printer sat next to his computer and was producing a steady stream of paper. A box of files sat at Vaughn's feet, some folders lying open on top of it. Vaughn continued his work, refusing to acknowledge Weiss.
Weiss stood patiently in front of Vaughn, sensitive to the fact that what Vaughn was working on was probably classified. Weiss knew that he owed Vaughn an apology, but Vaughn certainly wasn't making it easy.
"Mike, I just want to say that I'm sorry for going to Devlin with your hunch about Sydney. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, but now . . ."
Vaughn looked up with anger in his eyes, "But now you realize that you were risking her life as well as mine?"
"How could I know that Haladeki was the mole?" Weiss asked raising his voice.
Vaughn stood up, "Eric, even if Haladeki weren't the mole, I'd still be pissed. The bigger issue here is that I trusted you," Vaughn pointed a finger at Weiss angrily, "And you betrayed me. You were the only one here that I trusted whole-heartedly, and you . . ." Vaughn's voice was filled with hurt as he let his sentence trail off. "I can't allow myself to confide in you ever again. I've got no one to trust."
Vaughn looked Weiss in the eyes waiting for a response. When he got none, Vaughn sat back down and started typing again.
Weiss was hurt. "Mike, I admit that I broke your trust and I'm very sorry. I made a mistake. My intentions were good, but I can see now that it was poor judgment.
"But I've also been there for you whenever you needed me. For five years I've backed you up when nobody else would. I've never questioned you . . ."
Vaughn stopped briefly and looked up at Weiss, "You've questioned me plenty in the last few months, buddy."
Weiss pursed his lips, "Well, yeah. Since you've been Sydney's handler, you've done plenty of things that deserve questioning. But you were always my main concern. I never went to anybody else with any of my reservations, I came directly to you!"
Vaughn shook his head and returned his attention to his laptop.
Weiss continued, "I was worried about you – you were taking unnecessary risks. And when Tippin was kidnapped, I knew you would go off with her, risking your job and more importantly your life!"
"That's bullshit, Eric!" Vaughn stood up again. "You were worried about your vestment, you told me that yourself!"
"I was worried about my vestment when you let Sark get away!" Weiss raised his voice to meet Vaughn's. "And the only reason that I was worried about my vestment then was because I just found out that Darci was pregnant!"
Vaughn had a cutting comment ready but it disappeared at Weiss' confession. Vaughn narrowed his eyes and studied Weiss trying to determine if the whole conversation had been scripted.
Weiss waited a moment for Vaughn to reply, and when nothing was offered he dismissively waved his hand and said, "Forget it, man." He stormed out of the room.
Vaughn dropped his head into his chest. He did not have time for this.