Author's Note: Eeek!  I didn't expect Weiss to take a bullet!  Not when he's the star of my latest chapter!  All I can say is that I hope he's okay because I love his character and Vaughn needs someone he can cry in his beer to about Sydney.

P.S. If you know anything about Weiss, don't tell me because I'm trying to stay relatively spoiler-free.

Oh, and I love love love that scene outside after Syd rescued Vaughn.  His smile was adorable!

Anyway, here you go with the next chapter.  Please let me know what you think by leaving me a review!

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Eric Weiss was not having a good day. It started off badly when his alarm clock didn't go off, which in turn caused him to oversleep, which in turn caused him to be late for work. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem because he was a master at sneaking into the office on those occasions when he was tardy.

But today he arrived at CIA Headquarters still a bit groggy (he'd only managed to get in a few hours of shut-eye even with the oversleeping), so he didn't even notice when he drove into the parking garage and pulled into the spot right next to Devlin, who had just arrived himself. That led to an hour-long dressing-down in the Director's office about late nights, sloppy paperwork and his general lack of focus these past few weeks. Weiss took his boss' harangue in meek silence. He knew he deserved Devlin's criticisms (and probably a whole lot more) and while the Director cut him some slack because he understood why Weiss was behaving in this manner, he didn't mince words, either.

After Devlin's tirade was over, Weiss was sent to his office, where he proceeded to do what he had been doing ever since Vaughn disappeared, namely brooding and experiencing extreme pangs of guilt over what he had done to his partner.

It had been worse in the beginning when it appeared Vaughn had been left for dead in Taipei. Weiss became distraught at the news of his friend's death. His colleagues expressed their sorrow to him and he bit their heads off. One of the secretaries started cleaning out Vaughn's office and Weiss had charged in like a bull in a china shop, yelling that nothing was to be touched.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault what happened to Vaughn. It had been his choice to go with Sydney to Taipei and Weiss knew he couldn't have talked him out of going even if he'd known about it.

But the point was that he hadn't known. After finding out that Weiss had snitched to Devlin and Haladki about Sydney's plan to rescue Will Tippin, Vaughn had reacted by keeping his mouth shut in regard to the details of the rescue effort. It nearly killed Weiss to think that Vaughn's last memory of him was as a backstabbing, untrustworthy ratfink.

But then word came from Jack Bristow that Vaughn and Sydney were both alive and well, but unfortunately being held captive by The Man. Weiss had been overjoyed to find out that they had both survived their ordeal and waited eagerly to hear about the rescue operation, but after a week, no plans were forthcoming. It was an exercise in futility, they said, because no one had any idea where they were.

The guilt and frustration set in even deeper. What was the fucking CIA good for if they couldn't even find and recover two of their own?

Weiss suddenly threw his pen across the room and sat back in his faux leather chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. What he wouldn't do for a good six hours of uninterrupted sleep!

Unfortunately, that was impossible considering the holy terror who was currently taking up residence in his apartment.

When Vaughn hadn't returned when he was supposed to, the people at the kennel where Donovan had been staying called the office. Since all of Vaughn's calls were now being re-routed to Weiss (the two of them being partners and all), he was the one who answered the phone when the woman from Pinky's Pet Palace called, asking if Mr. Vaughn was going to be in any time soon to collect his bulldog. Weiss experienced a modicum of hurt when he found out he hadn't been the one Vaughn turned to when he needed someone to take care of Donovan, but Weiss knew he had no one but himself to blame for the snub.

So he did what any good friend would have done. He went and picked up Donovan and took him back to his place, hoping that his good deed would assuage some of the guilt he was still feeling. It turned out to be one of the worst mistakes of his life.

During his previous visits to Weiss' abode, Donovan had been the perfect houseguest. The squat little dog slept all day, ate everything in his dog dish and dutifully went out for a walk every morning and every evening without fail. Sometimes Weiss would come home to find Donny in the same spot he had been in when he left and he would wonder to himself if the dog had even moved all day.

But this time around was a hellish nightmare. Weiss was afraid that Donovan had somehow sensed he had been abandoned by his beloved owner and was now taking it out on his hapless temporary guardian.

One day, Weiss came home to find the throw pillows on his couch ripped to shreds. Another time, Donovan managed to knock over his dry dog food bag and it scattered all across the kitchen floor into every nook and cranny (he just knew there were still some random nuggets under the refrigerator, but he sure as hell wasn't going to put his back out trying to move it). That little mishap led to a late-night trip to the only pet store that was open until 10:00 pm (a good 25 miles away from his apartment) because Donovan certainly wasn't going to eat dirty dog food pellets and how dare Weiss try to feed them to him!

And it didn't stop there. There was the mysterious wet spot on the carpet that Weiss later discovered to be a spilled can of beer he had left on the coffee table (Thank God!). The bed pillows that smelled like dog drool (Ugh!). The little bits of hair he would find on his good suits (How on earth could a dog with such short hair be shedding?).

Nights were the worst. Weiss had let Donovan sleep on his bed when he'd stayed over before and the little dog would sleep at the foot of the bed until morning without fuss. Now he let out a plaintive howl whenever the lights went out. Weiss tried earplugs but then he couldn't hear his alarm, which caused him to oversleep and the whole vicious cycle just started all over again.

So that's why he was sitting at his desk massaging his forehead when he was supposed to be re-doing some of his "sloppy paperwork." He could feel the throbbing of a headache coming on, so when the phone on his desk rang with a rather shrill buzz, there was a definite bark in his voice as he answered the phone (Damn it, Donovan was rubbing off on him!).

"Yes?" He growled into the receiver.

If the person on the other end of the line was taken aback by the brusque greeting, it wasn't apparent by the tone of their voice. "Agent Eric Weiss?" came over the line in a robotic-sounding lilt.

What the hell? People didn't normally use voice distortion boxes in everyday life, so it didn't take a hammer to knock him upside the head that something about the call was not exactly kosher. Weiss immediately pushed a few buttons on the phone console to set up a recorder and a tracer on his phone line.

"Who wants to know?" Weiss asked, a bit belligerently.

"You really don't need to be concerned about my identity."

Weiss was in no mood to play games. It was probably just the op tech guys playing a prank on him. "Then I also don't need to be concerned about why you're calling, do I?" He was about to hang up the phone when his anonymous caller threw out something sure to capture his attention.

"Does the name Michael Vaughn mean anything to you? Or perhaps Sydney Bristow?"

Weiss was instantly on alert. "Who is this? Do you know anything about them?" He said urgently.

"I know where they're going to be two days from now."

"Where?"

"Italy." There was a slight pause. "The Vatican, specifically."

"And just why should I trust this information is legitimate?" Weiss asked warily.

"Well, that's going to have to be your call, isn't it? Good day, Agent Weiss." The mysterious caller clicked off.

Weiss removed the tape from his machine and then put in a call to the Communications department. "This is Eric Weiss. Did you get a read on that tracer I just activated?"

He could hear the technician tapping away at his keyboard. "I'm afraid you weren't on the line long enough for us to trace the number, Agent Weiss, but we did manage to place the origin of the call to Taipei, Taiwan."

Weiss felt a chill go down his spine. Taipei. Where Vaughn and Sydney disappeared. It couldn't be a coincidence. "Thanks." Weiss hung up the phone and headed for Devlin's office, tape in hand.

Devlin's secretary wasn't at her desk, so he had to knock rather than be announced. He barely gave Devlin any time to say "Come in!" before he barged into the office.

The CIA Director looked vaguely annoyed to see Weiss, but it wasn't anything personal. The younger man was a good agent, but he had let his partner's disappearance take hold of his insides and it was affecting his performance at work. It was understandable, of course; Weiss and Vaughn were friends as well as partners. But these younger agents had to learn to separate their emotions from their jobs.

"Weiss, I thought you were going to try to clean up your act." Devlin raised an eyebrow.

"I am, Sir."

"Then what are you doing in my office a mere forty-five minutes after our talk?"

"Sir, I just received a call regarding Agent Vaughn and Agent Bristow." Weiss explained patiently.

Devlin's expression changed quickly from exasperation to intense interest. "Did you trace the call? Could you identify the voice?"

"No, Sir, I don't know who it was. They used a voice distortion box, so I don't know if it was a man or a woman." He shook his head. "We were, however, able to trace the origin of the call to Taipei."

Devlin's eyes flickered. "Go on. What did they say?"

"The person told me Vaughn and Bristow were going to be at the Vatican two days from now." Weiss informed him.

"The Vatican?" Devlin recalled Sydney Bristow's recent troubles regarding the Rambaldi Prophecy when she had had to make an unofficially sanctioned break-in into the underground vaults of the Vatican in a desperate attempt to clear her name. "Does this have to do with Rambaldi?"

"I don't know. The caller didn't say." He handed Devlin the tape. "I made a tape of the conversation, Sir, if you want to have some analysis done."

Devlin gave him a look of approval. "Quick thinking, Weiss, good job. I'll have extra copies made and think about our next move." Devlin made it clear by his tone of voice that Weiss was now dismissed.

Weiss, however, didn't move. "Sir, you are going to act on this tip, aren't you?"

Devlin looked up. "I don't know, Weiss. If this is on the level, Vaughn and Bristow appear to be working for The Man now."

"Not by choice, Sir!" He protested. "Jack Bristow confirmed this when he met with Sydney."

"I know, Agent Weiss." Devlin's voice held a bit of impatience. "I wasn't implying that Agent Vaughn or Agent Bristow had become turncoats. It just makes me wonder why we would be told where they're going to be."

"Whoever it was obviously wants us to be there to rescue them." Weiss said naïvely.

"Or they want to lure us there for some kind of trap." Devlin countered. "This is very risky business, Weiss."

"But you're still going to send a team to check it out, aren't you?' He persisted.

Devlin nodded reluctantly. "If there's even the slightest chance of getting back two of our agents, we have to follow through."

"Sir, I would like to be part of the team." Weiss said earnestly, not hesitating for a moment in making his request.

"Weiss, we already have agents in Rome and London and even New York, if necessary, and they're all a hell of a lot closer to the Vatican than we are." Devlin pointed out unnecessarily.

Weiss stood his ground. "I realize that, Sir, but I'm sure you understand my reasons." He looked Devlin straight in the eye. "Mike is my partner." He declared and that was enough.

Devlin let out a sigh. "Fine, Weiss." He capitulated. "You'd better call Jack Bristow as well. He'll want to be in on this, too."

"Thank you, Sir."

To be continued…