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 8: So Intense It Hurts
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!
"Marshal, it's me. I need a favor."
"Syd, hi. How are you? I mean, did you find out about…well, did you find anything?" Marshal asked.
"This line is secure," Sydney assured. "I know for sure that Jacob Mosley's son's name is Rickard, he called him Rick. Mosley was working undercover on something, and his son didn't know he was an agent. His cover was blown somehow, a neighbor told me his son believed his father's subsequent death was his fault because he'd found out and bragged. I need to find out what he was working on when he died. I can't go any further out here; it was too long ago. But if you can find out where hard copy files are stored, I can infiltrate the facility and find real, hard facts to direct me to whoever's after Vaughn now."
"Really? Wow. Um…I think I can…Give me an hour," Marshal said quickly.
"Call my cell when you find it and I'll get to a secure line."
"Sure. That…it must have been awful for Vaughn to think…I mean for Rick to think he was responsible. And, hey, somebody may not like you asking questions about Mosley. Are you sure you want to do this alone, Syd?"
"Someone tried to kill us, Marshal. Someone found out who Vaughn is, and I intend to find out who before they try to kill us again."
The doctors had finally left her alone. From the moment she'd opened her eyes almost three hours ago, doctors and nurses had been in and out incessantly. "Move your toes, please." "Does this hurt?" "Lift your arm." "Do you have any pain here?"
She'd just wanted them all to go away from the moment she'd realized she couldn't move her left arm. She tried now to just flex her hand, over and over, but her fingers merely twitched in their permanently half-curled position.
It scared her, knowing she couldn't run away or fight, knowing her left arm was useless. More than anything had ever scared her before in her life. As a child, she'd been tough; strong enough to beat up the boys and cocky enough to prove is. Then she'd become a naïve teen, on her own. Her only chance had been to fight on more than one occasion. She'd always had her physical strength and prowess.
"Hmph," she muttered to herself. "Now I probably can't even walk."
Nadia knew she's have to retract her refusal to have any visitors; she had no idea how long Dr. Simons would hold them off anyway. She just couldn't bear to have Weiss see her like this. So scared and small and helpless.
Her next troublesome visitor was sure to be her father. Thinking about him only served to add to her fear. She had clear remaining memories of the things she'd done, of everything that had happened. Seeing her own father point a gun at her and fire it had somehow driven home the point that Sydney had tried several times to make her see. That Arvin Sloane was a dangerous man. To so distantly feel the awful, burning pain in her chest and know that her father was the man who'd inflicted it…whatever his reason, she wasn't sure how she felt about him after something like that.
Then there was, of course, the fact that the ability to fully comprehend what the doctors had done to her continued to elude her. At her continued confusion, they'd explained it several times, but the fact remained. How could they be sure they'd really fixed what was wrong with her? Could that horrible thing that had possessed her come back?
She knew Simons had told her that he thought she could probably walk, but what did he know? She couldn't even feel her foot, much less stand on it.
"Two gentlemen were here to see you," Dr. Simons announced, walking in with his customary clipboard. "They were very disappointed when I told them you weren't having visitors." He watched her glance away guiltily. After a beat he added, "They don't like each other very much, do they?"
He was rewarded with a wan stretch of her lips.
"No," she said, some form of amusement almost showing through.
Simons nodded, glad to see that Nadia still maintained some sense of humor. He knew from experience those were the patients that could recover the fastest.
"Ms. Santos, I know you're not feeling up to beginning a physical therapy regimen right now, but I think you should be made aware of your options so that you can begin to think about what you'd like to do," he began, flipping through some pages. "Of course, you're going to have to cooperate with a full evaluation soon so that we can see how much work has to be done, but I think it looks good for you, Santos." Simons leaned in. "With a little work, your left side could be up to full strength. There's no nerve damage, the muscle memory's just gone," he assured.
"Syd, Jacob Mosley was working from the West Virginia field office of the FBI."
"That's great, Marshal! Thanks!"
"I did you one better," Marshal said excitedly. "I found a trap door with no bells on it. Well, not literally, it was really more like a crack in the fence, and the dog on the other side was asleep in the…"
"Marshal," Sydney warned gently.
"Right. Um, well, Jacob Mosley was assigned to infiltrate a Rambaldi fanatic group known only as ESI. Officially, ESI was the front company, dealing in computers. But get this. It may not be significant, and it may be sending you down a blind alley, but…" Marshal lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. "There was that time that Sloane never accounted for, and Mosley began his infiltration attempts the same year that Sloane left the CIA."
For several moments, Sydney sat in stunned silence. Of all people…she never doubted the bastard had an agenda, but a move so blatant was utterly unlike…
"Syd? You still there?"
"Uh, yeah, Marshal, I'm here. So what I need is a list of names. People Mosley identified, descriptions, may be even photographs and surveillance, and see if Sloane is among them," she brainstormed.
Weiss knew Sydney had found something on Vaughn, but he'd simply been too worried about Nadia to catch much of what Marshal had said.
He continued to pace the waiting room Simons had, in no uncertain terms, relegated him to when he'd refused to leave the hospital until Nadia would see him. He held out the hope that Simons would complain to Nadia about his behavior, hence showing her that he cared enough to wait for her and wanted to be there when he needed him.
Because however strong a woman she was, Weiss wanted her to need him. At that point in the game, he wanted to see that Nadia felt he was as much a part of her life as he felt she was of his. In the weeks during which he hadn't known from day to day whether she would even survive, he hadn't gone a single hour without thinking of her, of some cute thing she'd once said, of how full of love her eyes were if he could get past the habitual wariness her expression always carried, of her admiration for her sister that he'd only dreamed of as an only child.
He knew every detail of this woman that had slipped past his guards and been the first woman to ever be amused by his magic tricks.
But now he didn't even have a damn clue as to the extent of her limited mobility or whether she was getting or had even agreed to go to any sort of physical therapy.
The back door had really been disturbingly easy to get into.
Even with the handful of agents still in the building at this late hour, she didn't worry. The file room was away from the main offices, presumably a deterrent from browsing classified material during the last twenty minutes of your lunch break.
Not really sure what she was looking for, Sydney quickly searched out the file labeled 'Mosley.' Flipping open the file, she scanned the report on Mosley. Under the 'DETAILS' heading, she saw a listing for 'Simpson, Emma and Richard,' and a case number. Tucking the file under her arm, she scanned the little plastic signs labeling the various shelves and filing cabinets until she found the one containing the file.
Where did 'Simpson' come from? Sydney wondered as she automatically thumbed through the files.
Sydney yanked the file from its drawer and flipped it open to a picture of a little boy she'd seen twice before and one of a pretty blonde woman in her late twenties.
Swinging a black bag from her shoulder, Sydney jammed the files inside and, after checking to see that the two guards she'd decked coming in were still securely unconscious in the small conference room off of the file room, racing back up the hall and out of a door that wasn't even supposed to lead to the FBI building.
The door opened on an alley that led to a shopping center parking lot. She'd left her car parked near the entrance to a beauty shop that clearly did enough business that nobody would be sure when she left whether hers was a strange car, or whether it belonged to that woman that came in for a weekly cut and curl.
Nadia shifted restlessly in her bed with a heavy sigh. This was absolutely ridiculous. Being strong and independent was all she'd ever known, and she'd told that damn doctor as much. How could he expect her to spend weeks totally dependent on someone else to help her stand on her own damn feet?
Yeah, he'd had those nurses drag her out of bed. Yeah, she'd been upright. But her good arm had been wrapped around a set of shoulders, her right leg had borne all of her weight, and the nurse on her left had had a surprisingly tight grip on her waist to hold her up. He'd told her to try to walk, and she'd argued that she couldn't even tell if her foot was touching the floor of if her knee bent in half.
So now she sat up in bed, her left arm turned palm up so that the endless twitching didn't look so much like irritated tapping. She'd just decided that the silence was unbearable when the door, closed at her request, opened and a form slipped through before pushing it silently closed.
Nadia opened her mouth to argue that she would not be poked and prodded any more, but the words caught in her throat and she unconsciously threw the sheet that covered her legs over her left arm.
"Eric!" she cried, surprised at the alarm in her own voice.
"Nadia," Eric said, worry pulling at his features as he tried to soothe her. "I just had to…"
"I asked them to keep people out." This time she manages to make her voice cold. "I'm calling the nurse," she added, shaking her head as she tried to roll over far enough to reach the red call button behind her bed.
Weiss moved up to wrap his fingers firmly around her wrist, but his grip was light.
"Please, Nadia," he said, holding her gaze. "You scared the hell out of me, babe. Then you won't even see me? I need to know you're okay. Will you give me that?"
Slowly, Nadia relaxed to fall stiffly back into her pillows, pulling her wrist free to rest her hand in her lap. She was silent for a long moment, looking anywhere but at Weiss.
"I didn't want you to see me like this," she admitted in a small voice, gesturing at her limp left arm where it had been revealed during their struggle.
A look of relief so intense it hurt washed over Weiss' face, and he gently too her left hand to smooth between his.
"Nadia…I don't care if you can never walk again, babe. I…I love you."
He waited anxiously after the words flew unbidden from his mouth as Nadia's expression went from shock, to confusion, to disbelief.
And then a wide smile spread slowly across her face.
Aw, how sweet! I like Weiss finally finding a girl. I should have given him a girlfriend in a fic a long time ago…