Note/Disclaimer: This chapter takes place during "A Higher Echelon", with some slight AU to fit the story. I changes a few things, mainly that Weiss has come back to work a little earlier than "The Getaway" so that I can use him in my scenes. Some parts of conversations are word for word. I don't own anything Alias.

Chapter 3 - The Suspicion

"Weiss!" Vaughn called as he hurried into the CIA office. Weiss turned around at the sound of his friends voice.

"Buddy, I need a favor." Vaughn said quickly.

" 'Hi, Weiss, good morning, did you sleep well? Yes, Vaughn, I slept well, in fact, I got a whole three hours of sleep, how are you?' " Weiss said sarcastically. "Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Sorry. Look, could you have this analyzed for me?" Vaughn held out a small plastic bag with the silver star inside.

Weiss took the bag out of his hand, and looked at it curiously. "What do you want it tested for?" he asked.

"Anything unusual." Vaughn answered.

Weiss looked at the expression on Vaughn's face, and thought twice about asking any questions.

"Sure, man." Weiss said. Vaughn began to shuffle through some papers, trying to look like he was doing something. Weiss looked down at Vaughn's left hand, which was bandaged.

"What happened to you?"

"Frying pan," Vaughn said quickly.

"Look man, are you feeling okay? You're acting a little weird." Weiss said.

"Look, Weiss, I'm fine." Vaughn snapped.

Weiss looked at him, a little offended. "Okay," he said, getting the message, and walked away.

Vaughn sighed, knowing he shouldn't have snapped at Weiss, but what happened the night before had been a little too weird for him ,and it all started when he had touched that silver star. He knew he would be on edge until he could find everything he could about it.

But right now he had a meeting with Will Tippin.

Will walked into the entrance of the post office, he had received a note to come here, assumably from Vaughn. Will really appreciated everything Sydney's handler was doing for him. He just hoped that he could help the CIA in any way, and not just be a burden.

Damn it.

Will had taken the doorknob in his hand, but had irritated the cut he had gotten on his hand that morning. He had been helping Francie cut vegetables when he obviously missed the vegetable. He thankfully didn't cut anything off, but he never knew a finger could bleed so much. He had bandaged his finger and put gloves on, but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell.

Anyway, his main focus right now was how well he did on that psych test.

"Hey, Will," Vaughn said as Will walked into a back room of the post office. Will was glad to see he didn't have a straight jacket with him. "Got your psych report back. You did well."

"So I'm not a sociopath?" Will asked.

"Well, I didn't say that." Vaughn said humorously.

Will smiled. "Do I have a job?" he asked.

"Yes"

"A paying job?" Will asked again, looking dubious.

"As an analyst," Vaughn explained. "You'll be asked to review classified documents and file reports. Think of it as writing articles, but now your source material is classified. In fact your cover is as a journalist."

"What's that mean? Am I an agent?" Will asked.

Vaughn chuckled. "No, agents are field trained. You're an analyst, you're desk trained. You sit at a desk."

"That's cool."

Vaughn continued. "The agency operated a monthly travel magazine called 'Trade Roads'. There's a small L.A. office. Go there when we page you. The materials we need analyzed will be there when you arrive, but don't remove them from the building. When you're done filling out the paperwork ,just give it to Bill. He'll be sure to see that it's processed."

"I get health insurance?" Will asked, unbelieving.

Vaughn chuckled again, nodding his head. "Welcome to the CIA, " Vaughn said, and held out his hand."

"Thank you," Will replied, taking Vaughn's hand. Will felt genuinely grateful for all that

Vaughn had done for him. He felt like a big weight had been taken off his shoulders now that he was employed again.

Vaughn wrinkled his nose, and glanced down at Will's hand.

"You know, you might want to get some stitches on that, it's bleeding pretty badly."

Will scowled and looked down at his hand, taking the glove off. Sure enough, the bandage had bled through.

"Damn," Will said, "this thing just won't stop bleeding. How did you know it was bleeding anyway?" Will asked. He looked up to see a very odd look on Vaughn's face. As far as he could tell, it was a mix somewhere between horror and confusion. "Vaughn? Man, are you okay?" Vaughn kept looking at Will's hand.

" Yo, Vaughn, you okay?" Will asked once again.

Vaughn seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, but he still looked disturbed.

"Um, that'll be it," Vaughn said, faking a smile, "Good luck with your new job."

"Thanks." Will answered, unconvinced that everything was normal, but he figured that he shouldn't ask too many questions, since the guy had just done him a big favor. "See you later."

Will turned around and left the back office, but not before he heard Vaughn exit the back door in quite a hurry.

Vaughn sped down the speedway, going at least ten mph above the speed limit. It has to be the virus, he thought. Sense distortion, violent headaches, chest pains, what else could it be? But why could he smell the blood on Will's hand? Why could he smell it? He had to talk to Dr. Nicholas right away. If he did somehow still have this virus in his bloodstream, he couldn't risk passing it to someone else, mainly, Sydney.

He sped into the parking garage, parking in the first spot he saw. He walked into the CIA run hospital, and walked swiftly up to Dr. Nicholas's office. He didn't bother knocking.

"Dr. Nicholas, I think I have a problem."

"Mr. Vaughn, as I told you before, you have been virus free since we administered the antidote provided by Sydney Bristow. There is no trace of an active virus in your bloodstream," said the doctor.

Vaughn sat on an examination table, listening to Dr. Nicholas's report after getting the preliminary blood samples back.

"Then why the sense distortions, the chest pains, the violent headaches that are there one minute and gone the next? Why do I feel like I'm losing my mind?" Vaughn asked as he quickly began to lose not only his patience, but his temper.

"Post-traumatic stress is very common after a near death experience," Dr. Nicholas said.

Okay, now Vaughn was losing patience. "Why the hell am I having so-called 'post-traumatic stress' now, when I have had no sign of such a thing these past weeks."

"It's not uncommon for such a thing to occur a few weeks, even a few years after a traumatic experience. Now we're going to run some more extensive tests on your blood, but every sign indicates that everything is completely normal."

Vaughn wanted to jump up and grab the guy around the throat. He had been in dozens of life threatening experiences over the last few years, why should this one have been any different?

"I'll call if there is anything suspicious in the more extensive blood tests, but I highly doubt it."

"Fine," Vaughn snapped, and left the office.

As Vaughn made his way back to his car, he gave the situation more thought. Perhaps he was just under a lot of stress. The last year and a half had been anything but normal, and nothing but stressful. He made his way back to the CIA office. Perhaps all he did need was time.

As usual please review, it's really appreciated. Next chapter there will be more action.