Page 47

Then we're airborne over some random shoreline, complete with a Ferris wheel and tons of prime beachfront property. I thought, just for a second, that we were in Chicago, down by Navy Pier, and then I realized that Chicago has neither the prime beachfront property nor the continuously sunny days that an airborne shot like this might require. I'm thinking that we're heading off to Syd's assignment when all of a sudden I'm forced to look at Willage Idiot. In bed. WITH HIS SHIRT OFF. Ew. EW. Oh, man. He's looking all post-coital and shit, too. Gah. GAH! Gack. Ow. I think I just swallowed a bug. Nope. Just a fragment of my southwest tuna wrap from Au Bon Pain that had, apparently, lodged itself into one of my molars. Gross.

Speaking of gross, Willage is in bed, drowsily contemplating making Jenny sleep in the wet spot, when a door slams and Jenny herself appears. She's carrying a big ol' bowl of java and wearing an absolutely adorable white tank top and frilly gray bloomers. She offers him some "coffee," but before she can suck another hickey onto his neck, Willage declines, saying that he has to meet with Ken Olin again. Jenny asks him what he's going to wear. Willage responds that he's just going to a prison so it doesn't really matter what he wears. Jenny's all, um, no, doofus, what're you wearing week? Willage is all, what week? Jenny's all, didn't you get my letter? Willage is all, what letter? Jenny's all, okay you REALLY need to start reading the things that I give to you, as well as start paying attention to my needs and wants as a woman, you pathetic floppy-haired ding-dong.

Jenny hands Willage a conveniently placed copy of "the letter." Willage has apparently received some sort of recognition for some random, probably poorly written article about some guy named Louis Maroma. Like, Willage has won some award or something, because the readers have voted his article one of the most inspirational articles of the year. Or something. Like I care. Jenny wants to know if he wants to go out and celebrate, like, this Friday? "Oh, I can't, I can't," stammers Willage, obviously hedging his bets that he'll have something better to do this Friday than hang out with a girl that obviously digs his chili. "I gotta do somethin' on Friday." "Oh, okay," says Jenny, checking her mental database for phrases that fuckstains often use in order to get out of spending time with would-be girlfriends.

Okay, then Jenny's apparently in the shower while Willage "I gotta do somethin' on Friday" Idiot is calling Sydney in order to tell her about his lame-ass award. Sydney, having just eluded two gun-toting Russkys, chats on her cell phone with Willage as if she's hanging out on a park bench in the Bois de Bologne. Of course, she's NOT on a park bench in the Bois de Bologne; she's in the fucking van with Dixon, cleaning up after the Moscow/mannequin incident. Willage asks Syd if she'd like to attend a showing of North by Northwest at the Fairfax on Friday night, and have some dinner to celebrate his award. Why, of course she would! She just has to save the world beforehand. "Okay, so, Friday night," says Syd. "It's a date." "It's a date," responds Willage, all smiles and grins. Way to dis your girlfriend, Willage.

Over at Credit Dauphine, Sloane's so onto Lois Lame's random stupidity that it's almost alarming that the idiot has made it this far into the series without being offed. Sloane's showing Spy Daddy some footage of Lois talking to Ken Olin at the prison. "About eight years ago," says Sloane, "[Ken Olin] created an encryption system that we wanted to acquire, but he wouldn't sell." There's no audio on the footage, but SD-6 got hold of the prison log, and it would seem that Lois Lame has been to see Ken Olin a total of three times in the last two weeks. Uncle Arvin goes on to say that Spy Daddy had previously convinced him that Lois Lame was just a harmless metro reporter, but now that Lois has found Ken Olin, his status has been upgraded to a credible threat. Uncle Arvin checks his watch and gets some little pills out of a cloisonn pillbox. No, I don't know what they are, but I'm hoping that they're Ecstasy and in about an hour or so, Uncle Arvin's going to drop trou, turn up the ABBA, and start licking his computer screen. I'd pay top dollar to see that, people.

"What're you suggesting?" Spy Daddy asks. "You know what I'm suggesting," says Uncle Arvin. Oh, Spy Daddy knows, all right; Uncle Arvin wants to cancel Lois Lame's check. Spy Daddy thinks this is premature because he's a friend of Sydney's, and as far as they know, he doesn't know a damn thing. You can say that again. Uncle Arvin's all, um, I told you about the whole Lois Lame thing as a courtesy, okay? I don't have to share dick with you. If I want Lois Lame removed from this planet, all I have to do is snap my fucking fingers, okay? Got it? Now shut up and go get me some Sanka.

Blah blah blah, Spy Daddy still thinks Lois Lame is clueless. Bling bling blooey, Uncle Arvin doesn't give a damn. "What concerns me is that this doesn't seem to concern you," Uncle Arvin says. "There's a difference between 'concern' and 'assassination,'" says Spy Daddy. Spy Daddy wants to get audio of Kenny and Willie's conversations in order to find out just what in the hell they were talking about before they send Lois Lame to the chopping block. Uncle Arvin agrees. "Jack," says Uncle Arvin in a calm-but-threatening tone, "we should take care of this immediately. There are some truths that Sydney must never learn." What, like the fact that you're really her father and Ana Banana is really her mother or something? Like learning that your mother was a fucking KGB agent isn't BAD enough? Unless Lois Lame's visits to Ken Olin are going to reveal that Spy Daddy's actually Sydney's mother and Dixon is her father, I really don't think there's too many "truths" out there that ol' Spy Barbie can't handle.

Over at The Womb Of Iniquity, Billy Corgan's warbling "Landslide" as Francie broods over her now meaningless stack of engagement gifts. Syd enters and asks how she's doing. Francie says she's fine, but then blah blahs about how she picked up thank-you notes so she could thank people for the engagement gifts that she really shouldn't be keeping because, you know, she's no longer ENGAGED. Okay, you know what? This is just stupid. You don't GET engagement gifts. You get SHOWER gifts, and then you get WEDDING gifts. I mean, personally, I absolutely detest all the damn gift-giving that goes on around weddings, so I don't know a hell of a lot about the protocol and crap, but I'm pretty damn sure it's not a requirement to send ENGAGEMENT gifts. Whatever. This scene's all weepy and stupid and I'm on my eighteenth Diet Coke and I just don't give a damn. Long and short of it? Francie's all sad, and Sydney comforts her. Francie tells Syd that she can't even take her engagement ring off. Syd, in a sort of "Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves" move, starts to remove her own dead-fianc engagement ring. Francie follows suit, and they both morosely place their Love Is Truly Dead reminders on the coffee table. They stare at them sadly as Seor Smashing Pumpkins continues to wail.

Offices Of A Newspaper That Probably Sucks. Lois Lame enters his office, and some chubby British girl whom we've never even seen before comes in with a cake in her hands. There's a candle on top. Willage is all, what's going on? Brit Girl is all, oh, false modesty, what a shocker. They go back and forth about this stupid article that Willage wrote. Don't care. I'm sorry, but I don't. Cutesy Newspaper Office Repartee takes place, and all I can think about is how I have to remember to buy toilet paper before my friend Lula arrives tomorrow so she's not wiping her heinie with Bounty paper towels. Like, Brit Girl's all funny and stuff, but -- who cares? Get. On. With. It.

Willage goes off to grab some paper plates, and a random delivery guy walks up and asks if Willage knows where some random office is. Willage tells him it's on the floor, and the random delivery guy thanks him, patting him on the back. I was hoping that he'd just taped a big-ass "KICK ME" sign to Will's back, but no such luck. It's a bug. We know this because Random Delivery Guy gets into a van, puts on some headphones, and immediately picks up on the conversation between Willage and Brit Girl. D'oh!

Conference Room Of Endless Debriefings. Uncle Arvin's telling Syd, Dix, and Marshall that the footage from Moscow is remarkable. It should be, dude. If Syd had been any further inside the room, she'd have been under the goddamn table. The body of the head K-Directorate guy, Ivankoff, was recently delivered to the K-D headquarters in St. Petersburg. It arrived via a commercial freight carrier, packed in amongst a crapload of Atlantic cod. Is that supposed to be symbolic or something? If it is, then I'm missing the symbolism. Kassar, the K-D second in command (the guy whom I erroneously called "Kessna" in the last recap), hasn't been seen since the night Ivankoff was murdered. Sloane believes that Kassar is being held captive by Mr. Sark (the guy whom I erroneously called "Salk" in the last recap -- look, nobody's perfect, okay?). Sloane surmises that unless K-D delivers the Rambaldi manuscript, St. Petersburg better be expecting another Atlantic cod delivery sometime soon.

Uncle Arvin's Treehouse O' Fun. A cadaverous-looking man enters Sloane's office and informs him that he's questioned everyone from the boat and the captain, who is a civilian, knows nothing. "Kill him," says Sloane crisply. See, I knew Sloane should have handled the Willage situation. There wouldn't be any of this "warning" crapola; Sloane woulda just whipped out a gun and shot Willage dead. Damn Spy Daddy and his stupid-ass "warnings."

Sing The Ovary Electric. The phone rings, and Syd picks it up. It's Emily calling to thank Sydney for her call the other day and to ask her over for dinner that night. Then Sydney's telling her sad stories to Agent Amorous. After determining that Syd has accepted the invitation, Vaughn hands over a small box with a paper clip inside. "This is a bug?" asks Sydney, as if she's never seen HALF of the shit that Marshall comes up with. "It's good, huh?" says Vaughn, all proud of himself. "You should see the guys who made it; it's like they've never seen sunlight." Watch it there, First Mate Forehead. You're no door prize yourself.

Vaughn wants Syd to place the bug in Sloane's home office, then goes on to tell her that the CIA's been studying the photos of the Rambaldi book that Sydney took. The photos turned out fine, but page forty-seven is completely blank. Spy Daddy's working on how to get the page out of SD-6 analysis and replace it with a counterfeit, but in the meantime, the CIA will just have to be happy with Sydney planting the bug in Sloane's office.

And now we have to endure the tedious blatherings of Agent Amorous. He lamely brings up that Syd said Emily told her she could invite a friend to the dinner. Syd's all, yeah, so? Vaughn's all, you taking anyone? We quickly switch to Lois Lame, crapped out on the floor of the warehouse. His cell phone is ringing. He groans and takes the call. It's Syd. She thinks Willage sounds like hell and wants to know if he's okay. He responds that he's fine. Yada yada yada, Syd cancels on the movie, but invites Willage to the dinner at Sloane's. We don't see Willage's response, but since we all know what a stiffy he has for Sydney, we can assume that he accepts.

Then Willage is running through some random area and a car horn is honking. It's Jenny. Willage gets into the car. Jenny wants to know what the hell happened. Willage rudely tells her that he doesn't want to talk about it. Jenny goes on to say that he'll just have to go over to her place so she can make him some recipe of her grandmother's and he'll just HAVE to meet her grandmother some day because he'd just love her and maybe this isn't the right time or anything but how does he feel about kids because she just loves kids and she'd really like at least two or three or seven and -- Willage cuts her off and tells her that he thinks she's really sweet and beautiful and they've had a lot of fun together but, you know, he doesn't really think it's going to work out between them.

Okay. A) Willage is a tool. B) Jenny just picked your sorry ass up out in the middle of fucking nowhere and you're breaking up with her? C) Willage is a TOOL. D) What is it about men that makes them think they can sleep with some girl who obviously is head over heels for them and not deal with the consequences? God, that burns my toast. Like, dude, she's made it VERY clear that she's into you; you knew that going in, and you also knew that you lust after Sydney, but you still fucked Jenny even though, like, you didn't really give a shit about her? What is UP with that? God. E) Willage is a TOOL AND A HALF.

Jenny obviously agrees with me, because she slams on the brakes. "Are you breaking up with me?" she yells. "I drive all the way out here, with a broken radio by the way, and YOU'RE GONNA BREAK UP WITH ME?" "That's not really fair," interjects The Inert Gas. "You know," sneers Jenny, "why don't you just call Sydney?" "Sydney's not my assistant," says The Fuckwit. Oh no he DI'INT. He did NOT just declare to the woman he's been fucking that she's his ASSISTANT and therefore required to be at his beck and fucking call. He did NOT. "You work for me," finishes The Criminal Waste Of Time. "Not anymore," says Jenny. "Get out." "'Get out'?" Willage laughs. "Where the hell are we? We're nowhere." "No no no," spits Jenny. "You're nowhere. Get out." Oh, you GO, girl. Jenny is my new favorite character. Too bad this is probably the last we'll ever see of her. Willage reluctantly gets out of the car and Jenny peels off. Yeah. She pretty much rocks it.

Big Bad Uterus Of Updated Folk Rock. Syd's dressing for the Sloane dinner party as Francie reads her one of her engagement present thank-you notes. It's mostly nice and polite, until she gets to the last portion, wherein she refers to Charlie as a "deceitful, two-faced, sex-crazed jackass." Heh. Sydney declares that the note isn't too harsh, and Francie smiles at her gratefully. The phone rings, and Francie picks up. It's my mother. She tells Francie to stop writing useless thank-you notes and send Charlie an anonymous box of poo, C.O.D. "That'll show that ignorant reject!" shouts my mom, obviously proud of herself. "And, while you're at it? Tell my daughter to stop falling for inappropriate men, okay? She's far too marvelous to be wasting her time on thirty-six-year-old men who sleep on their SOFAS because they DON'T HAVE BEDS." Or else it's a CIA spook, disguising himself as someone who's asking for "Joey's Pizza."

Syd tells Francie that she's going to go get a bottle of wine for the upcoming dinner. She tosses a shawl around her shoulders and heads out. Sadly, she is NOT heading out to the local 7-Eleven in pursuit of a half-decent bottle of Shiraz; instead, she's heading over to The Basement Of Unrequited Love And Half-Assed Bickering. As she approaches her and Vaughn's lurve nest, she sees that Agent Apathy is already chewing the fat with Spy Daddy. Syd's all smiles and giggles when she finally makes her way over to the chatty pair.

"Sloane brought the Rambaldi book home with him," says Vaughn, obviously panicking. Spy Daddy then informs Syd that Sloane was so taken with what he'd seen in the Rambaldi book that he took it home in order to show it to Sydney that night. Syd's all, so, what, he brought it to his crib? Spy Daddy's all, didn't I just say that? Don't you ever LISTEN to me when I'm talking? Syd's all, I don't get it -- why didn't he just wait until Monday to show it to me? Spy Daddy's all, whatever, dude. Suffice it to say, some SD-6 "Alliance" dudes are gonna take the damn sixteenth-century paperback over to Germany for analysis, okay? Syd's all, okay, is this all about the damn blank page? You fucknuts want me to make a switch, don't you? At SLOANE'S place. BY MYSELF. "Doesn't this seem a little 'risky' to you?" asks Syd, barely disguising the fact that she'd like to split Agent Apathy's crinkly forehead with crowbar.

Vaughn assures Syd that she'll have back-up. Spy Daddy's chowing down with Syd and the crew this evening. Spy Daddy assures Sydney that he'll be able to help her that night. He goes on to say that, since Sloane's wife thinks that Sloane is the C.E.O. of a bank, Sloane will have to hide the Rambaldi unveiling from her, thereby guaranteeing that Syd will catch a glimpse of the manuscript right in Sloane's office. Convenient, considering that this is the EXACT location where the CIA would like Sydney to plant the paper clip bug.

Here's the plan. During dinner, Sergeant Stupid will call Sydney on her cell phone. She'll pretend it's a friend in need. Syd will excuse herself, go to Sloane's office, break into the safe, pull out the authentic Page 47, and replace it with a fake one. According to Private Whatever-The-Hell, Sloane's office safe is a cushion model. No, I don't know what "cushion model" is. And no, I really don't care. Vaughn hands Syd some sort of device that's supposed to help her break into Sloane's safe. "The guys that made it are the same guys who did the paper clip," says Vaughn, wondering what Sydney would look like all naked and covered in Miracle Whip. "They say it's bitchin' so, I'm assuming it's 'bitchin'.'" Yeah, the words "bitchin'" and "Vaughn" don't really go together, do they?

Syd's not so sure about this plan. I mean, not only does it endanger her and Spy Daddy, but she's taking Will tonight and -- WHAT? Spy Daddy's all, you're WHAT? Syd's all, yeah, Emily told me to bring someone, what's your prob? Spy Daddy's all, um, nothing. It's cool. But, like, it's so NOT cool. In fact, it's so NOT cool that Spy Daddy motors off to prepare for the evening. Vaughn looks longingly at Syd's bare shoulders and tells her that if she can make the switch, great. If not, is she available later for a little friendly game of Othello? Whocka-whocka. "So, you're taking Will?" Sergeant Snoopy asks, like it's any of his fucking business. "Yeah," says Syd. "Well," says Vaughn, playing pocket pool, "you look really pretty." Syd thanks him and makes a mental note to sport head-to-toe Teflon armor the time she meets with Special Agent Sex Monster.

Then there's a doorbell ringing and the door opens and Lord Almighty, it's Amy Irving who answers. Like, I knew she was playing Emily and everything, but it's still sort of a shocker. Emily greets Sydney warmly, and Syd hands her some roses. Lois Lame's standing behind Syd, and she introduces him to Emily. There is something so intrinsically calming about Amy Irving. Seriously. In any role she's ever been in (besides The Fury, which doesn't really count because Andrew Stevens is in it and he's fuck-all for talent), she just radiates peace and tranquility. I don't know why I even mentioned this but, like, I just love Amy Irving.

Anyway...Emily invites Syd and Will in, and Spy Daddy approaches. Willage and Spy Daddy shake hands like the old acquaintances they are. Yes, it's ironic, isn't it? They're all buddy-buddy, and Willage has absolutely no idea that Spy Daddy's responsible for that glowing shiner on his cheek. Blah blah blah, small-talk banter and whatnot. Uncle Arvin enters, sporting a stylish black turtleneck and subdued tweed jacket. Yes, he looks hot. No, I'm not going to mention it again. Yes, as I've stated before, I have issues.

Syd introduces Willage to Sloane, and Sloane barely hides the fact that, if he had a butcher knife handy, Willage's internal organs would be spilling out all over Sloane's lovingly restored parquet floor. Uncle Arvin drags Sydney off for some "business," and Emily offers Willage a cocktail.

In Uncle Arvin's office, Syd stares into a mirror, which is most likely hiding a hidden camera. Sloane's at his safe, telling Syd how proud he is of her work in Tunisia. Syd slinks up to Sloane's desk and drops the "paper clip" into a cylindrical pen holder. Sloane pulls out the Rambaldi manuscript and sits down on a small sofa. Syd joins him. He tells Syd that a courier is going to pick up the book tomorrow, but he wanted Syd to have a look at it before it headed out for England. Yeah, Spy Daddy said something about it going to Germany or something. Frankly, I didn't really pay attention. The important thing is that Sloane's "sharing" with his daughter -- erm, I mean, "Sydney."

Uncle Arvin tells Syd that most of the text is in Italian, but some of it's in code. Syd looks at him like she doesn't know what he's talking about. Sloane starts asking all these open-ended pseudo-philosophical questions about Rambaldi that hold absolutely no interest for me whatsoever. "Men would die for this book," says Sloane softly. "Men have died." Blah blah blah, Sloane's obsessed with Rambaldi, bling bling blooey, Syd's not sure she's a believer. Done. Moving on.

Dining Room Of Double Agents And The Dying Wives Of The Men They're Trying To Bring To Justice. Somehow, Willage's stupid-ass story gets mentioned, and Emily's all surprised that he's the author of that fabulous article about the fruit picker from Levanda. Yawn. Emily's all, honey? Arvin? I told you about this! I voted for that article! Willage is all, really? You actually read that? Regina Rouge is all, GET ON WITH IT.

But they don't. Emily goes on to completely repeat the story about this slave driver of a boss whose employees lived in fear of him. The boss was the devil, according to Willage. He was eeeevil. If his employees spoke out against him, he'd have them killed. Do you get it? Huh? DO YOU? No, really, DO YOU? Like, Sloane's the slave driver, and Syd and Spy Daddy are his fearful employees who are facing potential death? DO YOU GET IT?

Look. I love Amy Irving. Did I mention that? I do. And it's just a fucking SHAME that I can't, and won't, repeat this entire scene, word for word. I won't, because it's a fucking WASTE OF MY TIME.

Uh-oh. Emily gets all emotional about Willage's stupid-ass story, and suddenly starts to look very ill. Sloane rushes to her side to ask if she's okay. She is; she's just adjusting to her new medication. Before we can have some sort of Terms of Endearment moment, Syd's cell phone rings. Even though it's highly inappropriate of her to answer at this particular moment, she picks up because she knows it's Vaughn. She tells the table that it's Francie and that she has to take the call. She then exits rapidly as Amy Irving asks herself just what in the HELL her agent was thinking.

Syd heads down a hallway and tells Vaughn that she's in and she'll see him at the dead drop. She hangs up on him and plunks the phone down on a table near the safe. She goes to work on the combination with her bitchin' device. Back at the table, Sloane asks Willage what story he's currently working on. Willage, who wets his pants at the mere thought of the warehouse and the ass-kicking, responds that he's got a few irons in the fire. Shut up, Will. Oh, and SHUT UP. Sloane wants to know just what kind of "irons" Willage is talking about. Spy Daddy slugs down a healthy portion of red wine.

Back in Sloane's office, Sydney makes it into the safe (shocker) and removes the manuscript. At the same time, Emily notices that Spy Daddy's out of wine and asks if he wants more. Sloane partially stands, ready to retrieve a fresh bottle. Knowing full well that he can't let Sloane leave the room, Spy Daddy declares that he'll go get it himself. Willage shoves food in his face and tells Emily that the meal is fantastic. Shut up, Will. Oh, and SHUT UP. Syd's located Page 47; she whips it out, pulls up her dress, removes a duplicate of Page 47 from her garter, and pulls the ol' switcheroo. Millions of perfectly sane males suddenly notice their temperatures rising to excessive degrees as they watch Sydney wrap the original Page 47 around her right thigh and secure it with her garter.

She looks up and sees Spy Daddy standing in the doorway. He nods at her and leaves. Syd replaces the manuscript pages. Spy Daddy reenters the dining room with his selected bottle of wine. Sloane disses him and gets up to retrieve a better, more special, bottle of wine from his snooty wine cellar. Spy Daddy once again tries to prevent Sloane from leaving, but Sloane tells him to park it and shut the hell up.

Syd replaces the Rambaldi book in the safe, shuts the door, locks it, and shuts the safe-concealing outer door. She goes to retrieve her purse and her phone and -- wait for it -- Sloane's standing right in the doorway! D'oh! Did he see her? Does he know that she was messin' with his books and shit? Does it matter? Sloane tells Syd that she looks pale. Syd says that Francie's having a really rough time right now. Sloane wants to know if there's anything he can do. Yeah, you can tell Syd she's fucked and we can end this damn episode. Syd's grateful for the offer, but there's really nothing he can do. She exits, leaving Sloane behind to exhibit his best silent-but-deadly facial expression.

The day, Syd makes the Rambaldi dead drop. At the same time, Spy Daddy's talking to Sloane about Willage and his conversations with Ken Olin. Spy Daddy says that he's dealt with Willage and he won't be a problem anymore. "Security Section told me what you did," says Uncle Arvin. "You had me followed by Security Section?" asks Spy Daddy. Uncle Arvin doesn't really respond to Spy Daddy's question, just informs him that Willage has scheduled yet another meeting with Ken Olin for that afternoon. Spy Daddy thinks Willage is just going to meet with Kenny in order to tell him that he's off the story. Sloane's not that easily swayed, so he's sent someone to handle the situation, just in case it gets out of hand.

As Willage walks up to the prison, some Random Guy In A Suit bumps into him, placing yet another bug on Willage's person. Sloane informs us in a VO that if Willage drops the story, he lives; if he doesn't, he's dead fucking meat. Willage sits down with Kenny. Willage starts blabbling about SD-6 as Random Guy In A Suit gets his gun ready. Willage fills Kenny in on his kidnapping and then tells him that he's dropping the story. Kenny declares that the only way to survive is to publish the story. Blah. Blah. BLAH. Willage drops the story and bails on Kenny like the girly-man that he truly is. Outside, Random Guy In A Suit shelves his weapon.

Then we're in Vaughn's office as he's tossing commands out to his secretary. Some geeky guy enters and tells Vaughn that Sci-Tech has figured out how to read the Rambaldi document. Vaughn's all, and? Geeky Guy's all, I think you should take a gander at this. He hands Vaughn a folder. Vaughn opens it, and something contained within must be serious indeed, because The Timpani Drums Of Dramatic Discourse swell to an alarming volume.

Then Syd's click-clacking down The Hallway Of Hopes And Heartaches as Vaughn leans against the wall, still staring at the contents of the folder. "I came as fast as I could," breathes Sydney. "What's up?" "Remember that vial of liquid that [Shovelhead] was after in the SD-6 vault?" says Vaughn. Yes, we remember. So does Sydney. Get. On. With. It. "We used it on the blank page," he continues, "to get the ink to show up." "So it worked," says Syd, wondering when in the HELL he's going to get to the point. "So? What is it?" she finally asks when Vaughn's forehead creases start bulging past his jaw line. Well, Vaughn's not really sure. The CIA doesn't really know what it is. Syd's all, DUDE! What's the problem? You're acting really freaky. Vaughn finally just hands over the page, and Sydney stares at it as the camera swoops around and reveals a sixteenth-century sketch of a woman that looks remarkably like Sydney herself.

Yep. It's official. Alias has just picked up where the X-Files left off.

I must kill myself now.

week on Alias: Past. Future. Manuscripts. Visionaries. Vaughn. Sydney. Spy Daddy. ROGER MOORE. I can tell I'm gonna need a whole truckload of grain alcohol for this one.