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 5: Nothing Left To Clean
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!
A/N: intriKate, "semblance of a plot in mind while writing"? Um, I'll take that as a compliment. I was surprised too that there aren't more finale fics this year. There's usually dozens. May be that's why I'm getting so many reviews?
A/N: Darrel Doomvomit, I take it "superfly" is also a compliment. Thanks. I think. Lol.
A/N: Mich, your reviews are flatteringly brief. At least there's nothing to flame, I guess…
The damn paper work Sloane had left him early that morning was finally done, although a lot of the research stuff had taken a lot less time than it could have thanks to an assist from Marshal with pulling the right files. Weiss wasn't positive, but he thought there was a pretty good chance Sloane hated him.
"Hey, Dixon," he said, catching the agent up the hall from Sloane's empty office. "Have you seen Sloane?" He waved the sheath of papers he held. "He said he wanted these when I was done."
Dixon frowned.
"He left hours ago," Dixon said. "He said something about being at the hospital for Nadia." He shrugged pointedly. "It sounded important," he added for emphasis.
As the words sank in, Weiss' generally easy going features twisted into those of a rage that concerned Dixon for the immediate health of their superior.
"Surely the bastard wouldn't intentionally not tell me they were operating on my girlfriend's head?" he growled.
Eric Weiss being pissed off enough to growl was a frightening prospect. Dixon studied the man beside him for only a moment before deciding to attempt to diffuse the quickly ticking time bomb.
"Man, you know Sloane. May be he just didn't want you worrying about Nadia down there for hours," he suggested.
"I doubt it," Weiss snapped, already walking away. "That ass hole doesn't even like me."
Sydney smiled disbelievingly.
"No, I don't need the wheelchair."
"It's a rule, Ms. Bristow," the young blonde girl said. Probably an intern, poor kid. "All outgoing patients are taken to the front in a wheelchair.
"Really. I don't need the wheelchair. I can walk."
"Ms. Bristow, I can't let you do that. All outgoing patients get a chair. It's practically a condition of your release."
Sydney could see the girl's temper beginning to flare, but she was getting bored with the exchange as well.
"I am perfectly capable of walking," Sydney said, swinging her jean-clad legs over the side of the bed and standing to prove her point. She took two lazy steps toward the girl as she said, "I don't think you should waste your time forcing a wheelchair on a patient whose only remaining obstacle is getting out that door."
Jack apparently was becoming annoyed by the young blonde's stubbornness as well.
"Is there a form we can sign declining the use of a wheelchair?" he asked stoically, commanding girl's attention.
"Well," she said nervously. "We don't keep any forms for a patient to relinquish the right to a…"
"Then we're done here," he interrupted, starting toward the door and looking ready to walk over the wheelchair parked in front of the doorway if the blonde didn't move it. Sydney followed closely; she'd never admit it, but lying motionless in a hospital bed for as long as she did had wrought its effects on her limbs. If Jack wanted to plow a path, she was more than willing, just for today, to follow that path.
"But…but…" the blonde was still sputtering when Sydney and Jack turned the corner.
"Thanks," Sydney muttered, quickening her pace to fall in step with her father. Jack only nodded.
Sydney thought vaguely as she sat in the passenger seat of Jack's black sedan that she was so rarely in her father's car. What was the make of it, anyway? Hell, it could have been a late model Camero for all she knew.
As they drew closer to her neighborhood, the idea of going home to an empty apartment became less and less appealing. No Nadia puttering around her room at all hours. No Weiss in her kitchen at six am, helping himself to coffee she'd just made. No Vaughn to snuggle up to when she woke in the night.
Her father must have read her mind.
"You could stay with me," he said, as if the invitation were one he gave everyday. "At least until you've had a few days to get back up to speed."
"I've lived alone for years," Sydney said simply. "Weiss is only two apartments over if I need him."
They rode in silence for several long minutes. As they pulled into her driveway, Jack turned to look at her and asked if Vaughn had enemies.
"Why?" Sydney snapped more than she meant to.
"Ithought it should be investigated that perhaps your and Vaughn's accident wasn't such an accident."
Sydney gave him a distrustful glance, knowing full well he wasn't telling her something. But all she said as she got out of the car was, "I'll see you at work."
Then she slammed the car door, bound and determined to find out what her father was hiding now.
Weiss slipped into the intensive care ward of the hospital, knowing it was late, but also secure in the knowledge that Sloane had left. He'd cased the hospital himself, waiting for the traitorous ass to leave.
"Excuse me," he said, approaching the lone nurse on duty at the desk. "Can you tell me how Nadia Santos is doing?"
"Let me see," the woman said sleepily, pecking at the keyboard. "Yes, Ms. Santos is in the ICU, but stable. She'd fully expected to pull through."
Weiss decided to take a chance.
"The procedure today…I'm not sure I really understand what was done. I was unable to be here to talk to her doctor…"
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm not a doctor. I can'ttell you much about the procedure."
"Gee, uh, I don't guess her doctor is still here? I kinda hoped to find out how he thought the operation went…"
"Sr. Simons has asked not to be disturbed."
"So he is here," Weiss said, not having to feign the eagerness in his voice.
The nurse belatedly realized her mistake.
"Dr. Simons is very busy…"
"I just want to see him for a minute," Weiss argued. All he could hope for, after all, was to know how she was doing, because if he claimed relation, or worse, to be her fiancé, he had no doubt at all that Sloane would promptly have his head on a platter with an apple in his mouth.
The nurse looked for a split second like she was going to argue, but with a sigh she leaned over the PA system.
"Dr. Simons, you're needed at the main nurse's station, Dr. Simons."
Then she leaned back in her chair, bored with Weiss and having no intentions of sparing him another glance.
Simons stepped around the corner a few moments later, took one look at Weiss, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Nadia Santos' friends and family were turning into more trouble than they could possibly be worth.
"Mr. Weiss, was it?" Simons said calmly. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about the procedure Nadia underwent today. And I was hoping you could explain it a little better," he said, implying he knew basics but was simply an idiot.
Simons sighed, but he didn't walk away, so Weiss took that as a good sign.
"The procedure went well. Ms. Santos is stable," he announced calmly. Seeing his audience expected more, he unwillingly continued. "We discovered that it was necessary to remove a larger portion of the area in question than we anticipated."
"How does that change the risk?" Weiss asked quickly.
"It will increase the odds of temporary paralysis, but, in theory, that could be fully overcome with the proper physical therapy. In theory, of course. Nothing is a certainty at this point," Simons added carefully.
Weiss nodded wearily.
"Is she awake?"
"She's under sedation. Her contact list is on file. We'll call the person or persons on that list when she wakes up."
Sydney was just beginning to convince herself that she was losing her ever-loving mind having to stay home, alone, with nothing left to clean, when her doorbell rang.
Jumping to answer it and desperate for company, Sydney only hoped her father hadn't returned to renew his crusade to get her to stay with him for a few days.
She smiled broadly when she found Marshal on her front step, clutching a thin file.
"Hey," she said, stepping back to let him in.
"Hey, Syd!" Marshal said enthusiastically. "Look, Weiss told me you don't remember anything you said at the hospital or the wreck or anything, but I started looking around, and, well…I think you should know about it. Weiss was worried about filling you in so soon, but if you can help, or it helps you remember…" Marshal trailed off and shrugged.
"So what's in the file?" Sydney asked, shrugging.
For the next hour, Marshal showed her everything in the file.
"Are you sure it's the same kid?" Sydney finally broke in. "And what about Mosley's wife? Do you have her name or her son's? Why would they have been extracted? Or were they kidnapped?"
"That's definitely the same kid. At first, I thought may be they were kidnapped," Marshal narrated. "But when I couldn't get into any of Mosley's case files to see what he might have been working on when he died, I came across a file on Mosley himself. All it said was that his wife and son were removed from the area as a precaution after Mosley's funeral. No names, no pictures, no references to other files, just that they were removed."
Marshal shook his head and looked up to catch a tear in Sydney's eye before she moved to wipe at her eye with the back of her hand.
"Syd, are you okay?" Marshal asked, tossing the file he'd held in his lap onto the coffee table.
"Vaughn and I were engaged," she said softly, both amazement and self-disgust in her voice. "And I don't even remember."
Marshal surprised her by leaning over to give her a quick hug.
"He'll wake up, Syd. The doctors all say it looks good," Marshal encouraged. "Hey, may be Vaughn won't remember either, huh?"
After a moment, Sydney burst out laughing.
"I wonder about you, Marshal," she said, grinning and shaking her head.
I had to do it. I had to put some goofy, only-Marshal-would-say-it moments in there. Enjoyed, I hope? Review, please!