Trust Me

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm notorious for being the recapper with the most VCR issues. Just ask Sars. It's either power outages or programming problems or bad tapes or wrong channels or busted machines; you name it, I've experienced it. But after setting up my apartment with not one, not two, but THREE VCRS last year, I thought my problems were over. And they were. Alias lifted the curse. That is, until last week, when I had one tape recording in the living room and another tape recording back here in the office where I was watching the -- oh, shit. I forgot to start recording. Oh, no biggie. I'll just use the tape in the other room -- oh, shit. I taped over it with that breast cancer Oprah for my mom.

Oh, fuck it.

The first five minutes of this weeks recap come to you courtesy of Wendy Kroy, who kindly watched it while I was on the phone and relayed every single second. It probably won't be as detailed as you'd like but, at this point, y'all are lucky to get it at all. And, quite frankly, if the show hadn't contained the hilarious Foolie/Spy Daddy comedy jokes moment, I probably wouldn't have bothered at all. So there.

We start off with rain. And SUVs. And lots of U.S. Marshals. Spy Mommy's in the back of a van, shackled, but still sexy as hell. The marshals pull Irina out and escort her into a facility. She's shuffling along because of the shackles and she's wearing this drab gray outfit, but she still manages to look dignified and lovely. J.J. Abrams better be giving thanks to Allah or Buddha or Confucius or whomever that Lena Olin agreed to do this show. Let's all try to imagine Anne Archer or Mimi Rogers or someone like that in the role of Irina Derevko. Not even close, huh? Yeah, J.J. Keep giving thanks there, stud muffin. And when you're done, give some more.

Spy Mommy is placed in a cell that, while it doesn't have a feather bed or track lighting, still has a rather retro government green frosted glass panache. Spy Mommy's not nearly as fond of it as I am, however, and shows her displeasure by giving everyone around her dirty looks. Seeing as she's shackled, however, the suggested imminent danger is slightly muffled. Kind of like when you flip someone the finger when their back is turned.

Bungalow Of Bawling And Pointless Plots. Spy Daddy rings the doorbell. and Foolie answers the door wearing a stupid red shirt. I actually didn't have a thought about the shirt either way, but Wendy Kroy thought it was stupid, so there ya are. Foolie has a bunch of paint chips in her hand, and she starts chittering on at Spy Daddy about her restaurant. "Okay, say you're hanging out at your favorite neighborhood restaurant with friends--" Foolie looks at Spy Daddy, who clearly has NEVER hung out with ANYONE in his ENTIRE LIFE. She sort of stutters and goes, "Or, you know, whatever. What color are the walls?" Looking for all the world like he'd much rather be hanging upside down above a pool of piranhas while receiving an orange juice enema, Spy Daddy just looks around the room and says, "I don't really go in for interior decorating. And shut up, Foolio." Hee. I just like typing that. Okay, "Foolie" is being upgraded to "Foolio." That's just damn funny. Anyway, Foolio gets the point and yells to Syd that her dad's here and he's totally freaking her out so could Syd hurry it up a bit before Foolio beats him over the head with a carpet sample book?

Syd's in the bathroom, putting a bandage the size of a loose-leaf notebook on her Spy Mommy-induced bullet wound. If I were Syd, I'd totally have a doctor look into that. The wound keeps appearing and disappearing. That's just not right. It's probably a lot more serious than just your plain old bullet wound. It's probably a magical bullet wound. Maybe Syd should go see a shaman or something. Syd leaves the bathroom and greets her father. As they're exiting together, Spy Daddy says something to Foolio about the color white meaning death to most eastern cultures and that perhaps Foolio should look into the color red for the restaurant walls. Foolio likes this suggestion, and goes on to remind Syd that Will's drug hearing is at 2 PM. Then she blithers on about how she'd like to kill the person who introduced Will to heroin with her bare hands. Spy Daddy starts imagining the orange juice enema again. Syd mercifully pulls him out the door.

Spy Daddy informs Syd that her mother's at a joint task force facility. Syd could really give a shit. "How are you?" he asks sincerely. "The wound's healing, if that's what you meant," she snaps. "Actually, it wasn't," he responds. This is actually a really nice moment between them. Syd just tells him that she's fine and thanks for asking.

Londontown. Uncle Arvin's hanging out with the Alliance Boys (not to be confused with the Backstreet Boys, or any other "boy band," for that matter). That icky blond guy with the universal accent is back again, this time welcoming Uncle Arvin into the group as an official member of the Alliance. He starts lying immediately when he announces that Uncle Arvin is a man of integrity and courage. Yeah. Because pulling the plug on your wife in order to get ahead at the office is a major component of courageousness.

As Icky Blond Guy continues blathering on about how valuable Sloane's evil doings have become, some dude who resembles F. Murray Abraham walks up to Uncle Arvin and sets down a silver plate that's loaded with a vial of lidocaine, a dish with some kind of capsule in it, and some twisted version of an ear piercing gun. Sloane just sort of looks down at it and then straight ahead, setting his jaw, managing to show us that, while he knew this was coming, he still ain't all that pleased about it. Ah, Ron Rifkin. How I missed your subtle acting ways during the summer hiatus. Blah blah blah, Sloane's just the kind of eeeevil we've been looking to add to our inner circle. Bling blam blooey, real sorry to hear about Auntie Em's death, dude. Flim flam flummox, gee, thanks Icky Blond Guy, that means a hell of a lot coming from you, since it was YOU who basically forced me to do it, you king-sized prick. One of the other Alliance guys pipes up and asks if Sloane was made aware of the initiation procedure and the reasons for it. Sloane's up to speed on the whole cyanide-capsule-hot-fuel-injection procedure, yeah. F. Murray wastes no time in shooting the capsule directly into Sloane's neck. Ew. Oh, and EW.

Welcome to the Alliance, dude. Here's your toaster.

Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. Syd's telling her non-boyfriend about Sloane's initiation. She's convinced that Sloane killed Auntie Em in order to facilitate his rise to the top. "Killing his wife wouldn't surprise me," says Vaughn. "Eating his wife wouldn't surprise me." Hee! Syd surmises that, since the Alliance thinks Spy Mommy's in hiding and they know Khasinau's dead, they're gonna want any assets they can get their hands on in regards to Spy Mommy's vulnerable operation. Vaughn's all, so, like what do you suggest? Oh, and your hair looks really, really nice today. Sydney's all, yeah, right, thanks. Oh, and my mother used blackmail extensively in her operation. She'd get dirt on people and force them to give her what she wanted. Pornographic photos (yay!), illegally obtained audio files, names, dates -- they're all on one disk. That seems awfully stupid, now doesn't it? Everything she EVER used all on ONE little disk? Wait. Did I just question the reality of Alias? I must not be drunk enough yet. Wait. I'm not drunk at ALL! Julio! JULIO! Ah, vodkajust leave the bottle

Vaughn's all, so, like, what does the Alliance want? The porn? Because that's what I'd want. Speaking of pornSyd's all, keep your pencil in your pocket, flyboy. Sloane wants the disk, yeah, and you know what that means, don't you? Yeah. We're going back in time to The Conference Room Of Endless Exposition to learn about Sydney's mission.

Turns out the itty-bitty disk in question was taken to a vault at a hotel in Rabat. Also at the hotel is one of Spy Mommy's operatives, Mohammed Naj. The operation's simple: break into the vault and retrieve the disk. Yeah. If by "simple" you mean "easier than microscopic brain surgery." Then we're back with the lovebirds and Syd's telling Vaughn that her flight leaves at sex. I mean, "six." Vaughn tells her that he'll contact her with the counter mission no later than threesome. I mean, "three."

Syd gets up to leave and asks about Weiss. Turns out they didn't kill off Greg Grunberg after all. He's going to be fine. Despite being SHOT IN THE NECK BY SPY MOMMY. Meanwhile, Vaughn's supposed to take care of Weiss's fish. Yeah. Because a guy like Weiss would have FISH. If by "fish" you mean "rabid Rottweilers." Vaughn's cell phone rings, and he picks up and quickly gives someone the okay to enter The Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. Unfortunately, that "someone" is none other than Kendall, the FBI dickhead played by "Terry "Hey, It's That Shadowy Government Figure!" O'Quinn. Syd's none too pleased about this new guest, saying that she doesn't trust Kendall because, if we all recall, he's the one that arrested Syd not too long ago. "He thinks I'm the devil!" Sydney hisses. Vaughn looks like he wants to say, "I don't think you're the devil, Syd. But I do think I'd sell my soul just to get a look at your --" But he doesn't have a chance, because Kendall enters. Vaughn gets all pissy with him, asking if Devlin approved this meeting. Kendall just looks at him as if he's toe jam and says, "No, I'm sorry. I don't have time to go through channels. And stop looking at me like that. I'm not gonna kiss her or anything."

As Sydney enters, a nebbishy young woman by the name of Vicki Crane walks over to her and welcomes her to Oz. I mean, Operations Center. Vicki brings Sydney over to Kendall, who's very glad Sydney changed her mind. So are we all, Kendall. So are we all.

After donning a skimpy sweatshirt to cover up her skimpy sports bra, Sydney makes the long trek down Hannibal Hall toward her mother. It's made even longer by the slo-mo in operation. Clarice Starling -- sorry, I mean, "Sydney Bristow" grits her teeth and enters the lamb holding area outside of Irina's cell. Irina has apparently decided against the black tank top and black pants that she wore to greet Vaughn, and has instead opted for "incarceration chic," sporting her original outfit of drab gray over-shirt and drab gray capri pants.

Sydney steels herself for the confrontation. Irina turns to her. "You didn't pull the alarm" is all she says. Syd just looks away like she's being scolded. Irina walks over and says, "I wouldn't have pulled it either." Syd tries to be all business and demands to know about the contents of the disk. Irina does something that NONE of us were expecting. She TUCKS HER HAIR BEHIND HER EAR. I didn't see that coming. Did you see that coming? Wait. Does this mean that Sydney and her mother share some inherent traits? Does it? No! It couldn't mean that!

It could and it does. Sydney looks totally grossed out by this realization as her mother asks about the shoulder wound. Considering that Sydney just wore a spaghetti-strap slip in Rabat without any visible indication that she'd been wounded, like, EVER, I'd say the shoulder's fine. Syd's not falling for the Mommy-bait, however, and just asks again about the disk. "Peter Fjordson," states Irina. Syd's all, who? What? The hell? Irina goes on to explain that Peter has a file on the disk and that he's the man SD-6 will go after first. "Why?" asks Sydney. "One step at a time," says Irina. Okay, enough. ENOUGH. Enough with the Lecter-isms, okay? What is this? "Quid pro quo?" "I need to know why," snaps Syd. "No, you want to know why. There's a difference," says Irina. "Go after Fjordson. Trust me."

Oh-ho-ho! TRUST HER? Dude. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her. And with my bad back, I shouldn't be throwing anyone. Syd seems to feel the same way, because she asks Irina why she should trust her. "Because I'm your mother," says Irina. That's it. That's enough for Sydney. And really, who can blame her? In approximately two seconds, Jennifer Garner shows us that Syd's about to hurl right there on the glass separating her from her birth mother.

As quickly as the steel bars can go up, Syd gets the hell out of there. As soon as she's out of the lockdown facility, she breaks. She's crying, but she's trying so hard not to let it out that she's thisclose to spewing all over the nice granite floors. Before we can see that, however, we go to a commercial for a car.