So this story got pretty serious, all of a sudden, huh? I must be in a serious mood. Anyways... here's chapter 8. Hope you like. And just a warning, I know nothing about Bangladesh, or hospitals, or people in a coma, so most of the details below are pretty much uneducated guesses. But I tried, and that's what counts, right? Right. Read and review! Thanks!!

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Chapter 8: Asleep

I arrived at the hospital in Barisal, Bangladesh almost 16 hours later, the jet lag already beginning to catch up with me. I hadn't been able to sleep on the plane for obvious reasons, and given the fact that I had only slept about 12 hours or so while Sydney had been away, I wasn't doing very well.

I approached the reception desk in the lobby of the hospital, asking for Sydney Bristow's room.

Luckily, Weiss had managed to arrange a cover for me after I'd left him at CIA headquarters. I was now Michael Bristow, a distant but concerned relative of Sydney's.

The nurse provided me with a visitor's pass and directions to Sydney's room. I nodded my thanks before heading to the elevator.

The elevator doors shut in front of me, and I ran a hand through my hair, groaning, and rubbing my stinging red eyes briefly.

I had just gotten off the phone with Weiss, who had informed me that there had been no change in Sydney's condition. Her vitals were stable, but she just wouldn't wake up. I chuckled despite myself. She was stubborn, even in a coma.

The bullet had grazed the side of her head, causing swelling in her brain. The doctors had stopped the bleeding and relieved the pressure that had built up in her skull. But the swelling had to go down on its own or it was possible that she might not wake up.

Ever.

She had to wake up.

I closed my eyes tightly, slowly inhaling in an attempt to control the panic—the helplessness that was building up in my chest.

If she had been captured, I could have helped.

If we had lost contact with her, I could have done something.

But she was hurt, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do except be there with her, and pray to God she would wake up.

The elevator ground to a halt, and the doors opened with a metallic screech. I walked down the deserted hallway to room 528. I paused at the door, breathing deeply in an attempt to mentally prepare myself for what lay behind it.

I had to be strong for her.

I opened the door, immediately confronted with the usual hospital room equipment—heart monitors, IV bags. My eyes fell on Sydney's form. Lying on the hospital bed, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

I was relieved, at least, to see that she was breathing on her own. A thin tube ran from a needle in her wrist up to an IV bag hanging on a hook beside the bed.

She looked like she was sleeping.

I silently pulled a chair up to the side of her bed, sat down, and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Sydney?" I said softly, my voice rough. "It's Michael." I reached up, smoothing down the hair on her bandaged forehead. "I'm here for you, sweetie," I whispered softly. "I'm here."

And before I knew it, the tears were falling. I lay my head down on the bed, muffling a sob. "Wake up, Syd." I said, my head resting next to her hand. "Please."

Eventually, my silent tears ceased, and exhaustion overcame me. As I lay beside Sydney's unmoving form, darkness finally claimed me.

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Well, hope you guys liked it. It even made me a bit weepy... and I knew what was going to happen, cuz I wrote it :) Anyways, hopefully I'll keep the chapters coming a little more rapidly. It helps when work is so slow that there's nothing for me to do BUT write fanfics :) Yippee! Can't complain there. As always, review review review!

And, if you're bored, go back and read my first Alias fic, Two Weeks! And, of course, review it again!