Weiss knocked on the door of Vaughn's hospital room and glanced around the corner. It had been over a week since he had admitted Vaughn to the ICU. Although the doctors had attributed Vaughn's quick recovery to the series of potent antibiotics they had administered to clear the infection in his lungs, Weiss theorized it had more to do with the daily communiqués he himself brought from Sydney.

Despite his progress, Vaughn's doctors refused to discharge him until they were certain the infection would not reoccur. Looking at his friend, Weiss surmised that the doctors were right to be cautious. Vaughn was well enough to become irritated by forced bed rest, but not strong enough to be back on his feet. Although his natural color was slowly returning, there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and he looked gaunt. Weiss guessed his friend had lost ten--maybe even fifteen pounds--since being admitted.

"Hey, how ya holdin' up?" he asked, walking into the room.

Vaughn rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw and glared at Weiss. "As well as can be expected, when they keep me cooped up in here. Get me out of here why don't you, and then I'll tell you how I'm doing."

Weiss shook his head. "No can do, Kemosabe. You're still under observation. I brought you something that might cheer you up, though," he said, lifting the bag up so Vaughn could see it. "It's from Syd."

Vaughn's eyes lit up. "How is she?"

"I just spoke to her. She just got back from Emily's funeral. Sloane gave her the week off. He thinks she's all broken up over Emily's death, when in reality she's worrying herself sick over you and Will. Hey, are you gonna open your present, or am I going to have to open it for you?" Weiss said, trying to steer the conversation away from work for the present.

Vaughn gave him an enigmatic look.

Weiss rolled his eyes and let out an overly dramatic sigh. "Okay, so I haven't been exactly supportive of your relationship with Syd up until now. You'll be happy to know that I have officially given up the view that it is possible to keep you apart, so that I can concentrate on keeping you both alive. Open your presents already. Let's see what she got you."

Vaughn took the bag from Weiss. It was heavy. Glancing at Weiss out of the corner of his eye, he pulled out the first package and unwrapped it. It was a beautiful leather-bound book almost as thick as it was wide.

Weiss whistled. "Whoa! Talk about a little light reading! You could use that thing as a doorstop!"

Vaughn ignored him and started flipping through the gilt-edged pages.

"War and Peace--in Russian," he mused out loud. Weiss looked nonplused, so he explained. "I was a Russian major back at Stanford. You know at that time the CIA still wanted all the new recruits to be fluent in a Slavic language. No one was even thinking about Arabic back then. I took Russian so it would look good on my application, but I ended up falling in love with the lit. Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Chekhov--it didn't matter. I couldn't get enough of it. I always told myself I 'd go back and read everything again in the original, especially Tolstoy. How'd she know?"

Then it came to him.

"Does that mean I'm in?" Sydney had asked him, after giving him her statement about SD-6, which she had written out in long hand, going through two roller ball pens in the process.

"No, not yet. They're reviewing your statement. You wrote a lot," he remembered telling her. "I mean, it's like Tolstoy long. Devlin says it could take weeks to verify. But I know we could use another double agent in SD-6."

Vaughn grinned and shook his head. Clearly he wasn't the only one with a long memory.

"I'm going to grab some coffee," Weiss said dryly, his vicarious pleasure in watching Vaughn open Syd's presents decidedly dampened. "I'll be back in ten. Then we need to talk."

Vaughn nodded, barely acknowledging the fact that Weiss had left the room. While waiting to see if he had made it through the first round of interviews to join the CIA, he had toyed with the idea of applying to grad school. An undergraduate professor who had told him he had a talent for languages, and a gift for literary analysis, had given him an application for the Slavic program at Princeton. He'd gone so far as to fill out the application, but he had never sent it. By strange coincidence, he had found it a few months ago in a box of assorted papers. It made him stop and wonder what might have happened if he had ignored the urge to follow in his father's footsteps. Would he have met Sydney some other way?

Given his train of thought, he was truly startled by the next gift he unwrapped. It was a DVD collection of Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Trois Couleurs" trilogy. He'd taken his mother to see "Bleu" in Paris the year it was released. He'd seen "Blanc" at the L.A film festival, and he had taken Alice to see "Rouge" on their first date. Much to his chagrin, Alice had found it "boring." He'd attempted to explain the beauty and significance of the interweaving plots, telling her that Kieslowski had based his film trilogy of fate, chance, and love on the three colors of the French flag--blue for liberté, white for égalité, and red for solidarité--but then just gave up, concluding it was something you just "got" or you didn't.

At the time, he'd convinced himself that Alice's reaction wasn't what it actually was: one of the many small indications of their ultimate incompatibility. Looking back, Vaughn realized doubts had plagued him throughout his relationship with Alice, but he had ignored them, to both their detriment. He had no such doubts about Sydney. Every fiber of his being told him that if SD-6 wasn't an obstacle, they'd be together. He'd never felt so alive with anyone else or so naturally in tune. The question was, would they ever have the chance?

Vaughn reached in and pulled a third present out of the bag. It was a Brooks Brothers box. He half expected to open it up and find a shirt--all his shirts came from Brooks Brothers, and it no longer seemed surprising that Sydney might notice a detail like that. However, he was wrong. Inside was a pair of men's striped linen pajamas with his initials embroidered on the pocket. He'd had a pair like these, but he hadn't seen them since he'd broken up with Alice. She had had a habit of wearing the top half to bed and leaving him with the bottom half. However, it wasn't Alice he was picturing sharing these pajamas with--it was Sydney.

Looking surreptitiously at the door, Vaughn felt it would be wise to see what else might be in the bag before Weiss interrupted. From the bottom of the bag he pulled out a white gift card that simply said "Je t'aime."

So, she had heard him. A boyish grin appeared on Vaughn's face, and he was still staring at the card when Weiss walked in. Weiss stood there for several seconds, and when Vaughn failed to acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat loudly.

"I'm sorry to bring you down off Cloud Nine, Romeo, but there's something we need to discuss."

Vaughn frowned. "Now listen, if you're going to lecture me about the dangers of getting involved--"

"I told you, I'm done lecturing you about Syd," Weiss cut him off exasperatedly. "Besides, protocol is the least of our problems now. Something happened in Taipei --something you don't know about."

That got Vaughn's attention. "What are you talking about?" he asked sharply.

"While you were practicing your breast stroke, Syd came face to face with 'The Man,' " Weiss replied grimly, "and it wasn't our buddy Khasinau--it was her mother."

Vaughn did a double-take. "Her mother? How is that possible?"

Weiss shrugged. "Who knows? The point is Irina gave her an ultimatum--either Syd could come work for her or forfeit her own life and the lives of everyone close to her." Weiss gave his friend a hard look. "Mike, the scary thing is I believe she has the means to back up her threat. With both our offices bugged, and Haladki reporting to her every other day for months, she has more than enough information to blow Syd's cover. SD-6 is no longer our biggest threat--Irina is, and it looks like she's in control. Neither you, nor Will, nor Francie are safe, as long as Irina knows she can use you to get to Syd."

"So what's the plan?" Vaughn said, regaining his focus. "Have Jack and Devlin proposed anything?"

Weiss glanced at Vaughn. "Yeah, but you're not going to like it."

"Let me hear it."

Weiss sighed. "They want to make Syd a triple agent. She'll feed Irina information, while we work in the background to bring down both Irina and SD-6 simultaneously. Dixon will be in charge of keeping Syd's cover intact at SD-6, while you'll pose as the new CIA mole, so that you can back Sydney up without making Irina suspicious."

"Jesus Christ, Eric!"

"I said you wouldn't like it!"

"Becoming a triple agent is tantamount to receiving a death sentence!" Vaughn said, shoving a hand through his hair. "We can't protect Sydney as it is. How the hell can we protect her as a triple agent? One false move, and they'll be gunning for her from all sides! I can't believe Jack would agree to such a thing!"

Weiss threw up his hands in exasperation. "Mike, we don't have much choice! If Syd refuses, Irina will blow her cover at SD-6. Her life hangs in the balance either way. At least this way we have options."

"What have you told Syd?" Vaughn asked warily. "Has Irina tried to make contact with her since she got back from Taipei?"

Weiss shook his head in answer to both questions. "We wanted to talk with you first before approaching Syd. As far as we know, Irina hasn't tried making contact, but we can't be sure. You're the only one Syd trusts completely, Mike, and Devlin knows it. The operation doesn't stand a chance without your participation. He's waiting for your okay before giving the go ahead."

Vaughn snorted. "For someone who's still officially suspended, I certainly have a lot of clout."

"I didn't come here today just to bring you Syd's package," Weiss said quietly. "Devlin wants your answer by tomorrow, so that we can be ready when Irina finally does contact Sydney."

"You tell Devlin I'm not prepared to make any sort of decision until I talk to Sydney myself," Vaughn shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. " While you're at it, you can tell him I want to make a few requests on Sydney's behalf."

Vaughn outlined his demands, and Weiss shook his head. "You don't expect much, do you?"

"If Devlin can't arrange what I just described, it gives me that much less confidence in our ability to protect Sydney as a triple agent," Vaughn answered grimly.

Weiss started heading towards the door, stopped, and turned around to look at his friend. "You know, you're gaining a reputation at the office for being a renegade. Word about Taipei has gotten out," he said, a strange expression on his face.

Vaughn gave a short laugh. "What, no more jokes about Balls of Steel?"

Weiss smiled. "They're calling you 'the young Jack Bristow,' and I'm beginning to think maybe they're right."