Author's note: Of course, Weiss gets a turn, too.
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Vaughn slid me a note during the briefing. I oh-so-patiently reminded him this is the CIA, not junior high, and he said after the whole "flirting corner" thing I had no room to talk. Figures. I try to help out a friend who, let's face it, really needs the help, and that's the thanks I get.
But what really pisses me off is what's on the note.
At the top, it says 555-4657. It's the number of the cute analyst who works on the third floor. After we got back from France, I told Vaughn that if he would grow a pair and finally make a move on Sydney, I'd ask the analyst out by the end of the week.
Underneath, he wrote 6, 19, and 12, which are the number of days, hours, and minutes I have left on that bet.
Underneath that, I've just added 14, which is the number of minutes I've spent with Marshall J. Flinkman, trying to decide whether his first phone call should be to his mother.
"I don't want to worry her, you know, since she had that heart thing, it's like 'Hi, mom, I'm not really in jail but I'm not really not, either, it's at – no, Mom, you don't need to call a lawyer – I'll be ok, yes, Mom, no, don't call Aunt Lucy to the phone – Hi, Aunt Lucy....' I don't want it to be like that, but she'll worry in a couple days if she hasn't heard from me. She thinks I'm in Phoenix. I was working on a picture of myself inside Sundevil Stadium. It's on my computer at work – will I be able to get my computer at work?"
At this point, Marshall takes the unprecedented step of pausing for breath. At least, I think that's what it was. He stopped for a millisecond so I just jumped in.
"Evidence has got the computer files right now extracting everything they can. I don't know yet when or if you'll be able to get them back."
"Okay. Yeah. Okay." Poor guy looks shell-shocked.
"Marshall, I know this is happening too fast, but you've got the chance to work for the good guys now. Based on what we've gathered from SD-6 and what our agents have told us, we can recruit you directly into the CIA. Your tech skills are very valuable and, if you're willing, you could be key in analyzing the data we recover from the SD-6 offices."
"What exactly would I be doing? It's kind of weird, I was working for the CIA, but I really wasn't and now I am – have you ever seen that movie, the Matrix? You know when Neo wakes up and it's all blurry and he doesn't know where he is and there's the really attractive woman. It's kind of like that, except without the attractive part." He glances up and looks genuinely embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it's just, you're not a woman, and –"
"I think I get the idea."
"And I wouldn't be working for Mr. Sloane anymore. He was really a great boss. After I got him that tie, when Sydney and I got back from Mexico City, I got it to say thinks for rescuing me. And he said thank you when I gave it to him, and how relieved he was to have me back. That was before he left – where, uh, where is Mr. Sloane?"
This time he really pauses, and I go back to staring at my legal pad. It's like telling a child his father's a criminal. It doesn't seem right. I take a deep breath.
"We don't know where he is right now. He disappeared from the Alliance a week ago."
He looks up sharply, alarmed. "You don't think he's part of the Alliance – you don't think, he's, you know…"
I tap a pen on the desk for a minute before I meet his eyes. "Our intelligence tells us he is. I'm sorry, I know it's a shock, but this is a secret he managed to keep from everyone. Even his wife."
Marshall just stares down at the desk, stunned. Like I said, shell-shocked.
"Do, uh, do you think it would be a good idea to call my mom? I know I couldn't tell her much, you know, all the secrecy and the covert information. But she would feel better if she knew where I was, and I could tell her, you know, everything is a little weird right now, but don't worry, Mom, everything will be okay. Really. That's –" He glances up at me. "That's not classified. Do you think so?"
"I'll get the phone."