Defying the Shadows APO is hit hard when three of their best agents wind up in the hospital, but the intrigue and deception is deepened when it is discovered one of them has dark secrets, and the only one that can discover the truth doesn't remember…
Chapter 4: Desperately Convinced
Disclaimer: I don't, nor did or will I ever, own any aspect of Alias. All recognizable characters and plot strands belong to JJ Abrams, not to me. But this plot in this particular fic is mine. And I have no characters to claim all for my own like in some of my other fics. Like Jeffrey…I love Jeffrey!
Sloane moved along the length of the room in long strides, barely noticing the room itself beyond where its boundaries lay. He didn't see the chairs lining the walls, covered in a generic, multicolored weave of some sort, the general effect of which was a maroon color that showed neither blood nor vomit with any promiscuity, nor the occasional piece of chewing gum left unnoticed until dried into the fabric. Nor did he notice the carpet his feet wore a path in, green with just a hint of gold, and tramped down so badly that the legs of the heavy chairs no longer left visible impressions in the rug.
He'd been in this confining room for hours now, leaving APO two full hours before he normally would have on a slow day. He, at moments, craved the nearness of another human being, but he himself had asked Nadia's doctors to keep the surgery a secret from all visitors but himself, and the thought of being confined to the small room for so many hours with the two people most likely to join him should they have known was enough to start a slow pounding right behind his eyes.
For one thing, Sloane had no idea where he stood with Sydney since he'd shot her sister, his own daughter, to protect her. She'd been unusually subdued and subordinate since their return from Russia, but from what he understood she now remembered nothing of that week, so any progress he felt they might have made had been erased from her memory, along with other, more significant events.
Eric Weiss, on the other hand, he sincerely disliked. In Arvin Sloane's opinion, while his ability as an agent wasn't in question, Weiss was a screwball, unable to take anything seriously, and in possession of a disturbing aptitude for turning any given situation into a joke, however bad said joke may be. Sloane had no intention of inviting such a man into his daughter's life, and he vowed silently to make doubly sure to convey his discontent in the matter to one Eric Weiss.
Sloane sensed more than heard the other man enter the room, but it broke his train of thought all the same.
"Mr. Sloane?" Dr. Simons said in a low voice, probably reassuring to most ears but Sloane found it mildly annoying instead.
"Yes?" he said, turning slowly as he said it.
"Nadia is in recovery," Simons said with a warm smile. "She's still sleeping, but you can see her now. We won't know what repercussions the procedure may have had until she comes out of the anesthesia and is alert. We may keep her sedated for up to three days to allow the spinal fluid to fill the space before she wakes up."
Sloane nodded, but didn't speak as he followed the doctor to Nadia.
Weiss trudged slowly up the hall, his gaze focused on a doorway near the corner, around which was the corridor that led to the main desk. He had talked to Sydney's nurse, then to her doctor. The man had been confused by his nurse's description of Sydney's sudden amnesia, but, after much badgering on Weiss' part, the doctor had agreed that it might be beneficial for Sydney to be briefed by a friend.
Syd sat up eagerly, if a little anxiously, when Weiss appeared in the doorway. The look she fixed on him was so plaintive that it was all Weiss could do not to return a look of pity, a thing he knew Sydney would not appreciate from anyone. She wanted answers from her friend, not pity.
"Eric, please," she begged softly. "What's going on?"
Weiss pulled the chair in the corner to her bedside before he spoke.
"Syd…you really don't remember the accident?" he asked in confusion.
Sydney shook her head wearily.
"You woke up a few times since you've been here," Weiss added a few moments later. "You don't remember what you said to Marshal?"
Sydney shook her head again, an impatience beginning to steal across her features.
"The nurse," she said anxiously. "She said something about my fiancé…"
"Yeah," Weiss said. "Vaughn was in the accident too."
Sydney eyes grew round.
"Weiss, I don't remember being engaged to Michael."
Weiss began to look worried. Hadn't he heard something about it being best not to plant memories in amnesia patients?
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked.
Sydney closed her eyes, remembering. The horror, seeing Nadia, Sloane with the gun, Nadia barely breathing…
"Being on the plane," she said finally. "With Nadia bleeding, and my dad saying…that the nearest unaffected hospital was almost and hour away." She looked at Weiss. "How long ago was that?"
"Almost two weeks," Weiss said, the hand holding the manila folder sliding out of her line of sight. There was no point in giving her even more of a shock, at least not until she'd had time to adjust to the idea that there was time she couldn't remember. Let alone that she had remembered it until perhaps only hours ago.
Whoever had covered Jacob Mosley's case, Marshal decided, had done a very good job. He'd found the FBI's computerized case file, yes. He could hack into it, no problem. He'd probably even be able to decrypt the file fairly quickly, having the same government grade encryption software himself.
But not before the FBI knew who he was, where he was, who he worked for, and where he lived. That was only with his level of clearance, though. The program protecting the Mosley file could follow his own connection back to access every piece of information APO had connected to his access code. With level six clearance, however, Marshal knew that the only information attached that outside sources could trace was an encrypted version of the letters A-P-O. it would be a miracle for someone to even decrypt that small a string, let alone would they know what it meant.
But, being Marshal Flinkman, he was sure he could find a way around the program. It would just take a lot more time than he'd have liked.
Just as Marshal was wishing he had access to a computer with level six clearance, Jack Bristow appeared in he doorway to Marshal's right with his customary, "Ahem."
"Oh! Uh, Mr. Bristow," Marshal stuttered. "Can I…I mean, did you want…is there something I can help you with?" All the time, Marshal was pressing keys and closing windows on the computer screen.
"You were sitting with Sydney one of the times she woke up," Jack said. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah. I mean, she was only awake for, like, two minutes, so she didn't say much, but, I was there, 'cause I thought she might not want to be alone…you know, I though she might want company if she woke up, and hey, she did…
"I was wondering if Sydney said anything that one might find odd," Jack broke in flatly. "I know she has no recollection of the events now, but when she spoke to me she was desperately convinced that the driver of the jeep tried to kill her and Vaughn."
Marshal almost told Sydney's father what she'd said, and everything he and Weiss had discovered, but concern for Sydney stopped him. It was common knowledge that Jack Bristow hated Michael Vaughn. How fair would it be to Sydney, and to Vaughn, to give her father another, very concrete reason to hate and distrust Vaughn?
"Well, she didn't really…she didn't say much of anything. She was upset, confused, and they've got her on so much…you know, sedatives, she was really just trying to find out how…how Agent Vaughn was, and all," Marshal blundered nervously, relieved when Jack nodded shortly and walked away.
Poor Marshal. He gets into so much trouble…but I just love him. So…tune in next week to see if Weiss and Marshal tell Sydney what she said before she contracted her baffling case of amnesia, and if they can solve their case before it's…Hey, did I just sound like a soap opera and an old detective show all wrapped up in one? Um…let's just...review, please?