Part 8 - Alice's Tale
Alice Morgan was late for work, again. The 405 was backed up and she was still three exits away. It didn't help that she was already in a bad mood. Her blind date with 'Walter' had been a disaster. One of her college friends, an accountant, had set her up with a co-worker. "He's not much to look at", she acknowledged, "but he's very sweet, has done really well for himself, and I'm sure he'll treat you like a queen." True enough, Walter had picked her up in his new Porsche and taken her to Spago's for dinner.
Walter may have been sweet, but he was also incredibly boring. She had had more fun watching paint dry. Also, the description of 'not much to look at' had been the understatement of the year. He was balding, slightly pudgy, and had a big broad nose. He was also a bit on the short side. She was 5'6" and he was barely taller than she. He kind of reminded her of Donovan. She started laughing at the thought until she began to think about the little bulldog's owner.
Michael Vaughn. Bastard extraordinaire. She couldn't believe that she had let him get under her skin again. She knew that technically they were just friends, but she had held out a faint hope. After all, they had broken up before and gotten back together. She knew that he hadn't started dating again since the whole Rita/Sydney thing and they had grown quite close. They would go out at least once a month, to play pool or have dinner, and then maybe catch a movie. She really thought he still cared about her.
Suddenly, without warning, over two months ago, he stood her up. He actually left her waiting at a restaurant in Santa Monica and then never called to apologize. First, she was furious, then concerned. She tried calling him, only to have her messages left unanswered. When she finally tracked down that lout Eric Weiss almost a month later, he had told her that Michael had taken a temporary assignment overseas. He was unsure when he would return. It was then that she decided that she would never again fall for Michael's charms.
The problem was that Michael Vaughn had ruined her for other men from the day he walked, or hobbled as the case might be, into her life five years earlier. She was a physical therapist for a posh sports medicine practice in Beverly Hills. Their clientele consisted mainly of athletes, celebrities, and the well-heeled, but disastrously uncoordinated, friends and associates of the orthopedic surgeons.
However, the surgeon she worked for, Lars Sorenson, was a little bit different. Oh, he had all those clients too, but he also had the occasional federal worker from the State Department. He must have had one hell of a friend over there because none of those patients could afford the steep fees the practice charged. It was obvious that Sorenson was just accepting the insurance reimbursements on them. There were not many of them though, only a four or five each year, but since she was dedicated to Sorenson, she worked with all of them.
These patients differed from their other clientele in that they tended to be much less whiny and demanding. She supposed it was because they were so grateful for the level of care which they were receiving. The celebrities and friends were the worst, whining unmercifully as she tried to help them recover from their injuries. The athletes weren't as bad, but their arrogance was almost unbearable. Not only did they usually try to show her how macho they were by not responding to obviously painful manipulations, but they usually also thought of themselves as God's gift to women. They honestly couldn't understand why someone like her wouldn't want to have a one-night stand or a nooner with them. In comparison, the referrals from the State Department were dreams. They were always on time, waited patiently for their appointments, and didn't hassle her at all either personally or about the exercises she made them do.
Michael had been one of those patients, a weapons inspector for the Bureau of Arms Control. He had sustained an osteochondral knee fracture playing ice hockey. Luckily for him, it had been a relatively simple fracture which had responded marvelously to arthroscopic surgery and then physical therapy. Lars Sorenson was a leading expert on this particular type of knee surgery and had actually used his success with Michael in a journal article.
For three months, he was her favorite patient. She would always be sure that he got the last appointment of the day, so that she could spend extra time with him. Not only was he cooperative and pleasant, he would actually say 'thank you' at the end of each session. That he was exceptionally easy on the eyes was an added bonus.
They had a lot in common. They were both only children raised by a single parent. Her mom had died of cancer when she was 12. His dad had been in law enforcement and was killed in the line of duty when he was 8. They loved the same music, Italian food, and pool.
Her father had been a nationally ranked amateur and a Brunswick Balke Collender table stood in the middle of their living room while she grew up. She often played with her father, especially after her mother died. Playing pool was what kept the communication flowing between them during those tough teenage years. Michael was one of the few people that she had ever confided this to and he, in return, had opened up as to how he and his mother had made it through those difficult times.
When his rehabilitation was over, he gave her a present to thank her for all the extra time she had spent with him, a beautiful, hand-painted Meucci pool cue. It was black and white and it had small delicate red roses painted on the shaft and base. It was gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as his lop-sided smile when he saw her reaction. Then, Alice Morgan did something that she never had, she gave a patient her phone number and prayed that he would call.
Less than a week later, he asked her out. They went on several dates, usually pool or dinner and a movie. He was always the perfect gentleman, dropping her at her door with a simple kiss goodnight, even though she had asked him in on a couple of occasions. He would always beg off with some excuse. She was just beginning to wonder if he was gay when he asked her away for the weekend to a friend's cabin up at Big Bear Lake. Definitely not gay.
After that, they fell into a comfortable pattern. They were both too busy during the week. He traveled and worked late; she often saw patients in the evening. Weekends were their thing. At least twice per month they would spend them together.
Two years into their relationship, just about the time she thought that he might propose, or at least ask her to move in with him, he broke it off with her instead. There was the standard, "It's not you, it's me". He didn't want to lead her on. He cared too much about her. He just couldn't see settling down any time soon. He didn't want to hold her back because he knew that that was what she wanted. He wanted to be fair.
She tried to disagree with him, but knew he was right. How could she have misread him so? She went off to lick her wounds.
Several months later, after a parade of Walter's, some mutual friends held a party at a local pool hall. He was there and they struck up a conversation. They both missed what they had had. However, he was honest and told her that he had not changed his mind about commitment. He claimed that he just wasn't there yet and that his job was not conducive to family life. She decided to take what she could get and they fell back into their old pattern.
One night, after a particularly long round of pool and drinking with friends, he was talking in his sleep. He kept calling for some guy named Sid. His voice alternated between near frantic and soft and seductive. Had her first instincts been right? Was he conflicted? Did he have a secret life? The episode left her unsettled.
The next few months were a blur. Her dad got sick, heart failure. He wasn't a candidate for a transplant. Then, Michael got sick too. It was something highly contagious that he had contracted during an inspection in Africa. Although he became quite ill, he recovered quickly. The same was not true for her father. A month later, he was dead.
She kept running into a co-worker of Michael's, Rita. Once at the hospital right after he had become ill and then about a month later in a bar. She seemed pleasant enough, but there was something about her that unnerved Alice. She tried to dismiss it, after all Rita seemed sweet and had a boyfriend, but she didn't like the way she looked at Michael.
Six weeks later it was over, again. Michael called her one morning and asked to meet her for breakfast. She could hear that tone in his voice. She knew what was coming. Things hadn't been quite right between them for a while. In truth, they had never been able to get back in synch after the breakup. They both knew deep down that they had mismatched expectations. Then, doubts about his sexuality had started to plague her.
The breakup was civil. He admitted feelings for a co-worker. He had never cheated on her, but things were different now at work and they would be able to pursue a relationship that neither had thought possible. Alice had to know whether her suspicions were right, but could not ask him outright. She asked him instead if it was Rita, praying that it wasn't some guy named Sid. He was shocked, but acknowledged that it was indeed Rita. It was her turn to be shocked.
He apologized for causing her any pain. She would always be important to him. If she needed anything, she should just call. After a brief exchange of possessions a few days later, she didn't see him again.
Three months later, after a particularly late night at the clinic, Alice came home, flicked on the news, and headed to the kitchen to make a salad. She could hear the days events – a drive-by shooting, a 10-mile backup on the 5, a home invasion. She was just returning when they flashed the pictures of the victims on the screen along with their names and a phone number to call with any information. Alice dropped her dinner, the plate shattering on the floor. The names under the photos read Francie Calfo, Will Tippin, and Sydney Bristow. Will and Rita. Will and Sydney. Syd not Sid.
She was stunned. Everything made sense now, although she never called Michael to confirm it. Morbid curiosity, however, compelled her to read every news account of what had happened in an attempt to learn everything she could about Sydney Bristow. Unfortunately the exercise left more questions than answers.
When Michael's mother died, she felt compelled to go to the funeral. Not so much to mourn, as his mother and she had never really gotten along, but to reciprocate the support that he had shown her during her father's illness and passing. She gave her condolences and they exchanged pleasantries. Then, she saw Will Tippin. She had to ask. She had to know. Michael explained about Sydney's undercover status as a banker, trying to expose illegal arms deals, and how the home invasion might have been related. Alice had had no idea how dangerous his job could be. She gave her condolences again.
After that, they would go out together occasionally, maybe once or twice a month. Usually, they would just play pool, but occasionally they would go out to dinner. The last time they were to go out was for her birthday over two months ago. He left her waiting at the restaurant and never called to explain or apologize.
Yesterday, out of the blue, Eric Weiss called her at work just as she was heading out for her date with Walter. He said that he had some news about Michael. She told him where he could stick his news and hung up on him. Michael Vaughn could rot in hell for all she cared.
When she finally made it into work that morning there were three messages waiting for her, two from Eric Weiss and one from Will Tippin. Michael was really pulling out all the stops this time, trying to get his friends to smooth things over for him. Why did he care after all this time? Was he coming home? 'Time to call good old Alice…' What was that saying? "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Fool me three times, I must be a complete moron. She crumpled up the messages and threw them in the trash.
After a hectic day, she crawled out to the parking garage at 7pm. She hadn't even had lunch and her mood, if at all possible, was even worse than it had been earlier. So, when she came to find both Eric and Will leaning on the hood of her new mini-Cooper, she was less than hospitable.
"Well if it isn't Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. You boys can save your breath because I don't care what Michael's excuse is. I'm not falling for any of his crap again."
"Alice, you don't understand…", Eric began.
"Don't understand what?! That I've been used by your friend more times than I can count and that now he's not even man enough to come apologize and talk to me himself! Bite me, Eric!"
"Alice", Will Tippin pleaded, "just give us five minutes to explain. There are some things that you should know."
"I understand why Eric's here, Will. He's always been Michael's lackey. How did he rope you into coming?"
"He didn't. He doesn't even know we're here."
Now, they had peaked her curiosity. "Fine. Five minutes, but it had better be good…"
"Michael didn't take an overseas assignment", Eric started, "I lied about that."
"What? He's been in LA this whole time?"
"No. He was in France. He just wasn't on an assignment."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because it was, and still is, classified", Will interjected. "Alice, Mike doesn't work for the State Department "he works for the CIA".
"All right. That's it! I've heard enough. You seriously want me to believe Michael Vaughn works for the CIA! Please… I suppose you both work for the CIA too – a 35-year-old man-child and an ex-junkie reporter!"
Will and Weiss winced. It probably did sound a bit preposterous, at least from her point of view. They both pulled out their ID's and handed them to her. Alice took them and looked at them closely. She still wasn't entirely convinced.
"Okay, let's say I believe this. Where exactly is Michael and what does all this have to do with me?"
Eric responded, "He was abducted two and a half months ago and held captive by a terrorist organization. Two weeks ago, we got a location on him and were able to rescue him. He's been in a CIA hospital abroad since. They're transferring him back here as we speak." Then, he handed her a manila envelope.
"What's this?"
"It's in case you have any more doubts", Eric said. "Open it. Once you look at them though, you have to give them back to me."
She immediately opened the envelope. There was an official looking letter followed by a few 8x10 photos. The letter was on "official" CIA letterhead and addressed to her. It attested to the fact that Michael Vaughn had been with the Central Intelligence Agency for over ten years and had indeed been abducted while on an "operation" over two months ago, the day before he was supposed to meet her for dinner. It also stated that, in addition to physical injuries, he had sustained a psychic trauma and that they needed help from a close personal friend outside of the agency. Eric Weiss and Will Tippin had suggested her. If she agreed, she should come with them immediately. If she didn't, she shouldn't disclose to anyone what she had seen or heard, or she would be prosecuted.
Then, there were the photos. She thought she was going to be ill. They were of Michael in a hospital bed. His legs were in traction and his right arm was casted from hand to shoulder. He was gaunt and pale. His eyes were dull and lifeless. His hair was longer and he had a full beard and moustache. He looked more like a concentration camp victim than her old boyfriend.
"What the hell happened to him, Eric". Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"We don't really know for sure. He hasn't been able to tell us anything. He's catatonic. The doctors think that he may be suffering from post-traumatic stress among other things. They think that having someone around him with whom he has a personal bond, but who doesn't have any link to the CIA or what happened to him might be able to help him come out of it. So, what do you say?"
The next day she was on her way to the San Juans. After her meeting with Will and Eric, they took her to Andrews Air Force Base where she met the others – Director Kendall, Drs. Barnett and Kramer, and Jack Bristow. They thanked her for her cooperation and told her that an extended leave would be arranged for her at work. Dr. Sorenson would understand as he had ties to the Agency. She was to tell no one where she was going or why. If they asked, she was taking a well earned extended vacation. Sorenson would back her up.
She was asked to make a list of a half dozen or so things from Michael's apartment that would have special meaning to him, comfort items. So, as she sat in the cabin of a yacht taking her from Whidbey Island to the enclave, she had the following with her:
A framed picture of Michael with his parents
A Kings jersey
A Mets cap
The Beatles Anthology
Sinatra and Police CDs
His lucky coin
His father's watch
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
She held the book in her hands, remembering her favorite story of his childhood. On his seventh birthday, his grandparents had given it to him. They felt he was old enough to start enjoying the classics. He had been horribly disappointed, having wished for just about anything but a book. However, his father started reading it to him at night whenever he was home. It wasn't long before he was hooked.
Near the end of the book, they found a treasure map between the pages. It looked old and was fairly nondescript, but it bore some resemblance to their backyard. So, the next day he used the map and unearthed a large box of chocolate gold coins right near one of his mother's rose bushes. He was in heaven. His parents were amused. Emboldened however, he started digging for treasure everywhere. After he had ruined two of her rose bushes and was threatening to become the scourge of the neighborhood, his mother finally made his father tell him the truth.
She had wanted to bring Donovan too, knowing how attached he and Michael were to each other. However, Eric had convinced her otherwise. Michael's condition was precarious at best and the island enclave with its heightened security was no place for the rambunctious little dog. He had settled in nicely at Eric's. It would be best to leave him there.
No one had told her that it would be so blustery and bleak. She had packed for colder climes, but the San Juans in February were a damp and dreary place. The fog was thick and there was a biting chill in the air.
When they arrived at the island, Weiss escorted her to her room on the first floor. It adjoined Michael's through a shared bathroom. He had arrived earlier in the day. Although she knew she was supposed to wait to see him, she couldn't. She went into the bathroom and crept close to his door which was ajar. Through the crack, she saw him lying there sleeping, a maze of tubes and wires and splints. As bad as the pictures had been, this was worse. He looked so fragile, so broken. Her heart ached just looking at him.
The first few days were the worst. She would sit with him for hours, talking to him and reading to him. He would simply stare into space motionless. She placed his things around the room and played music for him. There was no response. She told Dr. Barnett that she didn't think it was working, but the doctor disagreed. There had already been subtle changes in his EEGs.
She was going insane. She had never been a particularly patient person and Michael's condition and the dreary weather were making her feel claustrophobic. She had to do something. So, she did what she was trained to do. She went to Dr. Kramer and demanded to see his X-rays and asked what kind of physical therapy had been started. She was appalled to find that they'd done essentially nothing for him. After she thoroughly reviewed both his X-rays and his files from the orthopedist, she got to work. She knew what she could move and what she couldn't. She also knew how to be careful and cause as little discomfort as possible. She got his limbs moving as best she could. Within a few days, his overall color was better due to the improved circulation.
About a week in, after she had already done his physical therapy and had read aloud as much as she could bear, she was at a loss for what to talk about. She started talking about a friend's upcoming wedding that she was in. She talked about the people and the dresses, the flowers and the music and the fiancé and the parents. She really wasn't paying attention to his reaction as she wasn't expecting any, but when she looked up, she had to laugh. The look on his face and in his eyes was pleading with her, "For the love of God, please shut up!" She immediately ran over and kissed him and then changed the subject.
A few days later as she was reading a passage in Treasure Island to him, she decided that he had had enough and that it would be best if he napped. The look he gave her told her that he disagreed, but she had made up her mind. She went to pull up his covers and kiss him on the forehead, but ended up jumping so high that she nearly hit the ceiling when he unexpectedly rasped out, "No, More."
By the end of that week, he was feeding himself and they were carrying on conversations and playing board games. She told him if he behaved himself he could start getting out of bed for a little bit in a few days. She was thrilled with his progress. However, it didn't take long before the JTF damped her enthusiasm.
Just when she had him interacting, even smiling occasionally, they decided that it was time to start the regression therapy. The very first time they did it he started having seizures. She would have thought that that would have been enough to stop them, but it didn't. They would either increase or change his medication and try again the next day.
She confronted Dr. Barnett about it. She claimed that, even though what they were doing appeared to be cruel, it would help him in the long run. Michael understood why they had to do it. By the look on her face, Alice could tell that the good doctor was trying to convince herself at the same time. When she didn't get any satisfaction from Barnett, she went to talk with the internist, Dr. Kramer. That was a mistake. From then on, whenever they were going to regress him, she was sent off on the morning supply run with Jenkins to Friday Harbor. They would pick her up on the afternoon run long after they had finished.
During all of this, Alice felt that she had only one true ally. She found it ironic that the father of the woman who had stolen Michael from her would be her biggest supporter. He was a very somber man, even a little bit scary at times. To her though, he was always polite. He made sure that she got all the equipment that she needed for Michael's physical therapy. He was the only senior officer that seemed in any way distressed over what they were doing to him.
At first, she hated her trips into Friday Harbor. It may be a quaint island hamlet during the high season, but during March and April it was a pretty buttoned up place. Only about half of the shops were open and she always felt like she was getting the evil eye from the locals. She had been told that, if anyone asked, she was the private physical therapist for a software executive who had been in a skiing accident and had come to the islands to recuperate. This alienated the locals even more. They hated all the new money that had poured into the area, transforming their beloved islands into a playground for the rich.
Jenkins saw how miserable she was and took it upon himself to introduce her to some of the local merchants, the town librarian, and his sister, who still lived in town. After that, she did much better. At least then she was able to get a cup of coffee and head over to the library to read without feeling unwelcome or out of place.
A couple of weeks into her new routine, she made a new friend. She met a woman at the library who was researching the history of the islands for a book she was writing on the area. She came over to the table that Alice was sitting at with an armful of books and proceeded to spread out on the other half. They exchanged pleasantries and then the woman went about her work. About an hour later, the woman asked her if she wouldn't mind answering a few questions about the area.
"I'm not from around her. I'm working temporarily on one of the private islands near here. I just come into town to get a break and see humanity, what there is of it here."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have known. You're the first person who hasn't tried to glare me down."
Alice laughed, "I know what you mean! It wasn't till a local friend introduced me around that I felt they weren't trying to melt me with their eyes."
"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Barbara Carlisle."
"Hi. I'm Alice Morgan."
Barbara Carlisle was a stunning woman with auburn hair and blue eyes. She was tall and graceful. Alice guessed that she was in her early to mid-forties and in good shape physically. She was wearing snug jeans and a short burgundy cowl sweater. It was an outfit which would be hard for a women half her age to pull off, yet she did it with style.
She and Alice went to lunch together and Alice showed her around as best she could. Alice hadn't enjoyed herself so much in months. Barbara told her that she would be around until the end of the week and asked if she was available for lunch tomorrow. Alice eagerly agreed.
The next day, after a long lunch and few glasses of wine, Barbara told Alice that she had a confession to make. "I'm going to tell you something that's probably going to get me in a lot of trouble. I'm not really writing a book."
Then, Barbara Carlisle pulled out her CIA badge. It looked identical to Will and Eric's. Alice was crestfallen.
"They don't even trust me to be by myself for a few hours! I swear that I haven't told anyone anything!"
"Sshh, my dear, you misunderstand. You've broken no protocols whatsoever. Your cooperation has been above reproach. I'm the one whose breaking protocol."
"I don't understand."
"I'm not with the Joint Task Force. I'm regular CIA. I've come here representing some concerns that I and some other senior officers have over how things may be proceeding at the enclave."
"Please continue", Alice said.
"Some of us, friends and colleagues of both Michael and his father, have concerns about how he may be being treated. I don't know whether or not that they told you this out there, but about a week before you came here there was a raid on the JTF facility in Los Angeles. Nine agents were killed and the JTF believes that the information, which would have been necessary to carry out the raid, could only have come from Agent Vaughn during his captivity. Now, this may or may not be true, but in either case, my colleagues and I want to make sure that Michael is being treated appropriately, with compassion. We have concerns because the man running the JTF currently, Director Kendall, has been known to take liberties with the rights of others when he deems it necessary."
This is all Alice had to hear. Now, everything made sense – the lack of concern for Michael's physical recovery and the continued regression therapy despite its obvious consequences. They were punishing him for his perceived involvement in what had happened. She was horrified. But now, here was someone who might be able to help.
Alice poured her heart out to Barbara about what she had seen and heard. Barbara listened attentively and told her that she and others in the Agency would see what they could do. However, Alice was to tell no one of their conversation or there would be repercussions for both of them. She promised to return in a couple of weeks to see if things had improved. They would meet again at the library as they had before.
Alice went back to the enclave rejuvenated. Now, she had not only had an ally on the inside, but also another one on the outside. She still didn't know too much about this world of espionage, but she knew what it had done to Michael. She would do everything possible to get him off that island and out of this life as soon as possible.
Over the course of the next two weeks, things improved. Michael's seizures became less frequent, despite the fact that they continued to regress him. He was out of bed several hours a day and equipment had arrived to help her with his physical therapy. The cast on his arm was gone, replaced by a splint for his wrist. He let her cut his hair and help him shave. He started to look and even act more like his old self again.
The next time she met Barbara, she filled her in on all of the good news. Barbara smiled and nodded approvingly. Then, she asked Alice something quite unexpected. "How is Jack Bristow doing?"
"He seems to be fine. He's not around as much as before. He seems to only come up on weekends now."
"Oh", said Barbara, "The reason I ask is that my colleagues and I are concerned about him also. He has taken the confirmation of his daughter's death quite hard."
"Yes, I overheard Michael and him talking. It sounded as though he's considering leaving the CIA."
"Really" said Barbara, concerned. "What did Michael say?"
"Something to the effect that he couldn't blame him given the circumstances."
"Has Michael said anything about his plans when this is all over?"
Alice sighed. "Not much. Just that the CIA is no longer an option for him. They would like him to go into the Witness Protection Program, but he said something about not wanting to go through the rest of his life checking the doors and windows."
"Has the JTF or Michael said anything about when he might be done with his debrief and free to go?"
"They've estimated that he should be done in a month or so."
"What's up for you then?"
"I guess it's back to my life in LA, although it seems that there might not be a lot left for me there."
"You care about Michael a great deal, don't you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Don't be embarrassed. I'm sure your love for him has helped him a great deal in his recovery. Does he know how you feel?"
"Part of me thinks he must. Why else would I still be here? It's complicated. Right now, I guess I'm forever fated to live in the shadow of a ghost."
"You should tell him how you feel. Perhaps protection would seem more of a viable option for him if he weren't alone. I hate to think of him out from under the protective wing of the CIA and on his own, vulnerable to his enemies. Witness protection really is the answer."
"I wish you could come and talk some sense into him."
"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to leave that to you. There would be too many consequences for all of us if I were to get involved any more than I already am. I tell you what, though. Meet me back here a week from today and tell me what's happened. If he still hasn't agreed to go into protection, perhaps we can brainstorm some other options."
Alice did her best to convince Michael to go into protection. He refused. She offered to go with him as she had so few ties back home. This took him aback. She had already done so much for him. He couldn't ask her to make that kind of sacrifice. She had no idea what she would be getting into. She pressed him as to what his plans were then. He said nothing specific, but intimated that he and Jack Bristow were contemplating some sort of joint venture.
By the time Alice met with Barbara the next week, she had become a bit frantic about Michael's prospects for the future. "Barbara, he's not listening to reason. I'm not sure what he and Jack Bristow are planning, but I can't imagine that it will end well."
"Are you sure that there's no way that he would go into protection with you?"
"I already told you. He said no."
Barbara paused and thought for a moment. She chose her next words carefully. "Let's say Michael changed his mind and wanted to go into protection with you. Are you absolutely sure that you would want to? Because if you are, there may be a way."
"How?"
"Michael Vaughn is nothing if not an honorable man. You could make so that he would feel compelled to go into protection with you."
"What are you saying?"
"Are you intimate?"
"We used to be, but that was ages ago. Now, given the circumstances, I don't think he'd allow it. I do catch him looking at me sometimes though, and I know that look very well. I just think that he's too worried about me."
"He has a point, you know. Do you really love him enough to go into witness protection with him forever? Even if you have to deceive him to do it? It can be done, but once you do, there's no looking back."
Alice thought carefully. She knew exactly what the other woman was suggesting. She had always dreamed of a family with Michael, but had long since given up hope of its happening. Her dream now had been to get him safely out of this life. It sounded as if Barbara had a plan that could help her realize both. She met Barbara Carlisle's gaze and nodded her head.
"Okay, then. Tell me when your last period was."
"Last week."
"Good. Now, is Michael still on the same medication?"
This confused Alice. "Yes, why?"
"We just need to be careful, that's all. Meet me back here in four days. I have to look into a few things."
When Alice met Barbara four days later, Barbara handed her two small packages. She told her that the first contained four hypodermics and a bottle of pills containing fertility drugs. Did she have a problem injecting herself? She would need to do this for the next four days to make sure she ovulated at the end of the fourth day. After that, she would have to take the pills for the next two weeks. Alice nodded her head in understanding. The second package contained some capsules. They looked exactly like Michael's medication. Alice gave Barbara a funny look.
"What are these?"
"Michael's pills, or at least the ones you'll give him on the fourth night."
Alice was worried. "I don't know about tampering with his medication…."
"Don't be concerned. I had a friend in Medical Services make these up. They're completely safe. It's Michael's regular medication mixed with a little something extra. I've had two doctor's review the contents and they both concluded that they would be safe if used on a one-time basis"
"What's the something extra?"
"Gamma-hydroxy-butyrate, GHB."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Alice couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Barbara started getting testy. "Look, I'm not happy about this either, but if you're serious about keeping Michael out of harm's way and joining him in witness protection, this is our only option. You don't have to do this you know. The choice is yours. I was simply trying to act in your and Michael's best interests."
Alice was flustered. Part of her knew that they were going to have to do something to get Michael's cooperation, but giving him a date rape drug had not occurred to her. The look on Barbara's face told her that she wanted an answer as to what she was going to do. What other choice did she have? If she didn't, Michael would never go into protection and she would still probably lose him forever.
"Okay", her voice was barely a whisper.
"If you change your mind, please call me the next time your in town." Barbara handed her a card with just a phone number on it. "This is a secure line. Please memorize it and then destroy it. The timing is tight on this if it's going to work. We have a limited window of opportunity."
Alice nodded.
"All right. If you decide to go through with this, you will need to make some excuse to go to Seattle exactly two weeks later. You're dying for culture, people, shopping, or whatever. There's a ferry that leaves from Friday Harbor first thing in the morning and another that gets back late at night. I'll meet you at 2pm sharp at the base of the Space Needle. I'll need to take you to a physician there so that we can determine whether you were successful."
For the next four days, Alice gave herself the injections that Barbara had given her. They made her feel a little bit crappy, but she kept reminding herself why she was doing this.
On the morning of the fourth day, she knew that she was going to have to come up with some way to spend the evening alone with Michael. She convinced Dr. Kramer to X-ray his left leg. The splint on the other leg had come off a couple of weeks ago. The one on his left leg was due to be checked in a few days. He was already down to just a wrist splint on his right arm. Just as she suspected, the leg splint could come off at any time. She convinced Dr. Kramer to let her tell him the good news over dinner.
The next part of the plan involved getting the others out of the way. Kendall and Jack Bristow were already in LA, so there would be no issue with them. She told Jenkins and Morganetti the good news about Michael's leg and how she wanted to celebrate with him privately by making him his favorite meal. It didn't take much for them to catch on. They offered no resistance to the idea. After all, the man had to be allowed something. As for Dr. Barnett, she decided to appeal to her as a woman. She had obviously seen how much Alice and Michael cared for each other. How could she possibly oppose some private time for them when, in all likelihood, they would not see each other again after the next few weeks?
Once all of the obstacles had been cleared, Alice set about making Michael his favorite dinner, Ossobucco with homemade risotto on the side. She had gotten Morganetti to pick up all the ingredients on the afternoon run to Friday Harbor. Then, she set up the dining room and waited.
At seven o'clock, when Michael emerged from his evening session with Dr. Barnett, he found that no one was in the main house except for Alice. Judy Barnett had slipped out quietly to join the others for dinner in the bunkhouse. The dining room was lit by candlelight and Alice came over to help him to the table.
"What's this all about?" he asked, confused.
"We're celebrating!"
"Why…?"
"Because this", she motioned to the splint on his left leg, "is coming off right now!"
Vaughn was elated. "Seriously?"
"Absolutely"
With that she sat him down and set about taking off the splint, which only took her a few minutes. "Tomorrow, we'll set you up with a new brace. I'll help you get around tonight."
"Where's everybody else?"
"I told them to take a hike. I wasn't going to try and make Ossobucco and risotto for a cast of thousands. They can fight over the leftovers, if there are any."
"There won't be..."
They enjoyed a wonderful meal together and tried to carry on a conversation completely devoid of references to either the CIA or the JTF. Alice saw Michael eyeing her glass of red wine jealously. She had made sure that she had picked out one of his favorites.
"Don't even think about it", she laughed.
"I don't think a couple of sips would hurt…"
"Forget about it!" she said as she got up to clear the dishes. "I'm keeping an eye on you…"
"Spoil sport."
"I tell you what, if you want a cheap buzz, you can take your medication a couple of hours early with this," she said as she returned to the table with a cold bottle of O'Douls and two of the capsules Barbara had given her.
"It's not the same", he said, pouting.
"I know it's not, but it's as close as you're going to get! Take it or leave it."
"Take it", he said, begrudgingly, as he downed the pills with a swig of the near beer. "By the way, thank you."
"What for, being a spoil sport?"
He laughed. "No, for all of this. You're too good to me. I honestly don't know how I would have gotten through any of this without you."
He looked at her in a way that would have normally melted her heart, but right now, the guilt was making her nauseous. She put on her best fake smile and said, "You're welcome."
They continued to talk as she cleaned up from dinner. Within fifteen minutes, she could hear his speech get sloppier and he was actually getting giddy.
"Hey, you weren't kidding! I feel great! I'll have to remember this for down the road…"
"Wonderful", she said shaking her head, "I've just taught you how to abuse you medication…."
He actually giggled. She started feeling a little bit better. At least he appeared to be enjoying himself. Maybe this was going to work out after all.
"Once I'm done cleaning up, I'm going to help you get to your room".
When she finished, five minutes later, he appeared to be even more intoxicated. She went over to the table and motioned for him to get up. He almost fell over when he did. Alice caught him and put his left arm around her neck and shoulder.
"Whoa. Come on, Big Fella. Time to get you to bed."
"I love you."
Alice's heart soared. "You're a cheap date, Michael Vaughn. Let's get going…"
She got him to his room, pulled down the linens on the bed, and plopped him down. Then, she took off the sneakers, socks, and sweats that were his perennial wardrobe these days. He was left in nothing but his boxers.
"You're not going to take advantage of me now, are you?" , he slurred out while laughing.
Alice froze for a moment, but then decided to use the opening. "Only if you want me to", she said teasingly as she leaned over him and kissed him lightly on the lips.
He surprised her by responding. It was tentative at first, but then he deepened the kiss and pulled her down onto the bed. Before she knew it, they were rolling around the bed like teenagers, just like they had at the beginning of their relationship.
After a few minutes, Alice broke their embrace and sat up to remove her dress. He laid there with smoldering eyes as she slowly undid the buttons. Just as she had finished pulling it over her head though, she saw a change in his expression.
"Wait. We shouldn't be doing this…", he managed to slur out.
"Why not?"
"It wouldn't be fair to you. I'll be leaving in a few weeks…"
"Let me worry about fair, okay? I'm a big girl now."
With that, she laid back down again next to him and kissed him deeply. She started caressing the growing hardness in his boxers.
He groaned as the sensations overwhelmed him. "God, it's been so long…"
"For both of us", she replied as she continued stroking him. She could feel the warmth pool in her moist center. She wanted him so badly that her body was quaking at his every touch. She raised herself up as she slowly peeled off his boxers and tossed them across the room. Then, she rose up on her knees and removed her bra and panties in a mock striptease.
"You're bad. You're a very bad girl…", he slurred out.
"I may be, but I'm the bad girl that you want right now", she replied huskily.
Bracing her hands on either side of his shoulders, she perched herself over his engorged shaft and sank down on it slowly. They moaned in unison. He grabbed her hips as she slowly started to ride him. He felt so good inside her, filling her completely. After a minute or two, she leaned over to kiss him, but she could see by the roll of his eyes and the look on his face that he was on the edge of consciousness. It would be best to stick to the task at hand.
She picked up the pace and felt her orgasm swelling within her. She could tell by his breathing that he was close too. Just before she was about to come, she whispered to him, "I love you, Michael. I love you so much…"
"Syd, I love you! Syd, Syd…," he cried in return as he spilled into her and then lapsed into unconsciousness.
Alice never found her release.
The next morning, Michael Vaughn woke to find Alice spooned behind him, her right arm draped across his torso. "Oh God, what did I do?" was all he could think. It's not that he didn't care for her, he did, but he had sworn to himself that he would make sure that she didn't get sucked into this any more than she already had.
He couldn't even remember what had happened. The last thing he recalled was sitting at the dining room table, lusting after her glass of Merlot. Apparently, that wasn't the only thing he was lusting after. She gave him his medication early with an O'Douls. Oh, crap.
After she awoke the next morning, there had been a few awkward moments with Michael. He actually apologized to her about what had happened. He knew that she couldn't hold her drink and he shouldn't have taken advantage. Now was not the time for them to be getting involved again. She was almost free of this mess and he did not want her getting pulled in any further.
She told him that she understood, that they had both lost it a little. She should have never have let him take his medication early. They should pretend that it never happened.
Two weeks later, Alice was headed to Seattle. It hadn't been hard to convince them to let her go. Kendall was in town, which always meant more regression therapy sessions. The ferry docked in Seattle at 1:30 pm so she had to scramble to meet Barbara at the Space Needle by 2pm.
Once there, she scouted the area for Barbara to no avail. She had no idea what to do. At ten after, she was beginning to lose her nerve when a gentleman approached her.
"Miss, oh, Miss! Your friend is in the cab over there. She was afraid that she was going to lose it so she's gotten in already."
"Oh, thank you very much!"
Alice went over to the cab and got in. As soon as she was seated, the driver took off. Barbara apologized for the cloak and dagger, but she had to make sure that no one was following her. They drove around for ten minutes before coming to a stop in front of a medical office building that was part of the University of Washington Medical Center.
They went to a fertility clinic on the fourth floor where Alice was brought to an examination room and blood and urine samples were taken. She was alone in the room for about fifteen minutes before Barbara came in, a disappointed look on her face.
"I'm sorry dear. I'm afraid it didn't work. You're not pregnant."
"We did all that for nothing!"
Barbara had a strange look on her face, as if she were hesitant to say something. "I'm sorry, but the doctor said that, since you're over thirty that sometimes it takes several cycles for these things to work. He also mentioned that it might be something to do with the potential father. That might make sense given everything he's been through."
"What are we going to do now? Michael is scheduled for discharge in a week!"
Again, Barbara acted hesitant.
"What? What is it?"
Barbara shook her head. "There is something else we could try, but it's pretty extreme. Perhaps too extreme. This is one of the leading in vitro fertilization centers in the country. We could check to see if they had any embryos with the correct genetic phenotypes. If they had an embryo whose parents' blood types and physical characteristics closely matched yours and Michael's, it could be implanted in you as a surrogate mother. Michael need never know."
"You can actually do that?"
"Dear, we're the CIA. We can do just about anything…."
