"What happened to Dr. Barnett?" Sydney Bristow sat on a large leather chair with her legs crossed. She wore the usual grey business suit with her straight brown hair in a messy bun, her hands rested on her lap. In front of Ms. Bristow, sitting behind a large mahogany desk, was Dr. Chandler Barut, her new CIA psychologist.

Dr. Barut was a tall, thin man with graying black hair and a blonde goatee.

"Dr. Barnett is busy with a patient in Zurich," said Barut.

"Arvin Sloane," Sydney assumed.

"Yes, that is the name of her patient," he said. "But I want to know about you. So far you've only told me about the tragic death of William Tippin and Francine Calfo. What about Agent Michael Vaughn."

Sydney's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her former love's name. She hadn't thought about Vaughn in nearly a month. Dr. Barnett had been helping her get over his death and she'd been making progress but now Syd would have to start all over again with her new doctor.

"Agent Vaughn was the love of my life," Sydney half-said and half-whispered. "My dad didn't tell me much about his death. Just that it was my mo---Irina Derevko who savagely murdered him. She'd killed his father before."

"Your mother killed the love of your life?" Barut rubbed his chin in that annoying way that doctors loved so much. It was taunting. "Hmmm…interesting…"

Okay, now he's just trying too hard, she thought.

"Yeah, it's very interesting now can I please go?" Sydney asked.

Barut looked up as if he'd been lost in deep thought.

Yeah, right. He was probably debating which color M –n- M he should vote for this year.

"Oh, yes, you can leave," he said. Sydney flew off her seat, rapidly shook his hand and rushed out the door.

"Thanks!"