Previously on Alias: Captain Cuckoo went batty, Spy Mommy was sentenced to death, and Syd found out that not only did Spy Daddy rig the explosives, but he also trained her to be a mini-spy. Then she cried about it on Vaughn's shoulder. And we all sighed with unrequited lurve lust.
Parking Garage Rooftop Of Unrequited Lurve Lust And Slightly Embarrassing Mornings After. Virtuous Vaughn and Still Sad Sydney are hanging out on some random garage roof, both sporting sunglasses previously worn by Neo and Trinity, respectively. Vaughn tells Syd that her mother's trial starts tomorrow. Syd, whose hair is pulled back into a French twist that's so tight it looks like her forehead's actually pinned to her skull with industrial ¾" Stanley staples, wonders aloud how long the trial will take. Vaughn surmises that, due to the eighty-six counts of espionage against Spy Mommy, the trial will probably take for-freaking-ever.
Syd is particularly moody today. She turns and demands to see the opening arguments. Vaughn -- convinced that every little thing he does, even if it's just to make it possible for Syd to watch her mother get sentenced to death, will allow him access to the downy glory that is Syd's inner thighs -- informs her that he'll arrange for a closed circuit feed into the Ops Center. This pleases Princess Penumbra, and she totters over to him on her spiky-yet-classy three-inch-heels. Showing that she's still just the girl door, Syd sort of slumps down to Vaughn and whiningly demands that he tell her a joke because, in her current Poe-ian state of mind, she could sure use one. Captain Comedian willingly obliges her with the strategic use of the infamous "Grasshopper Named Doug/Phil" joke that pretty much went out with Pop Rocks and whoopee cushions.
Silly Syd beats Merriment Michael to the punch line, but his hard humor work is rewarded by one of Jennifer Garner's stellar smiles. They both half-heartedly giggle at the lame joke, and Syd looks at Vaughn with the light of love shining in her eyes. Or, I mean, it would be if she weren't hiding behind those Foster Grants. (By the way, I actually inadvertently typed "ears" there instead of "eyes," and that set off a giggle-fest that, for some reason, I felt compelled to tell y'all about; because, like, how funny is it to have ANY light shining in Syd's ears, let alone the LIGHT OF LOVE? Tee hee.)
Conference Room Of Endless Expositions. Sloane's filling in the troops about Sark's activities; namely, he's been working on the development of a bio-weapon synthesized from a heretofore unseen virus. Sloane changes the picture on the screen to show Klaus Richter, the dude that Spy Daddy fed extra doses of morphine to in exchange for the whereabouts of the map to The Bible location. Yeah. I'm out of breath just TYPING that sentence.
Right, so Richter's been exposed to the virus. Commander Cup Runneth Over With Craziness nods at Inspector Dingus to explain about the virus. Dingus brings up a screen shot detailing normal flu antibodies. In comparison, Richter's blood work shows antibodies a thousand percent above normal levels, very similar to the Ebola virus. Only difference? This virus seems to be intent on breaking down bonds between cells. So, Inspector Dingus excitedly blabbles, in a couple of days Richter's body is gonna resemble that inside-out baboon in David Cronenberg's exceedingly disgusting remake of The Fly.
Captain Caca Brains cuts Dingus off with a terse "thank you," and Dingus looks incredibly wounded as he takes his seat. Corporal Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs goes on to tell his team that Sark managed to get his hands on a medically-equipped 727 in order to transport three patients, all presumably suffering from the same virus as Richter, to a private hospital in Geneva. Why Geneva, you ask? Well, because they make great watches and Sark's an avid timepiece collector, if you really must know.
Okay, actually, the hospital is one of Sark's business fronts, and SD-6 believes that he's assembled a team to study the virus. Sloane informs Syd and Spy Daddy that their objective is to enter the facility and retrieve the research information. They'll be teaming up as a father who needs a kidney and the loving daughter who's lending him one of hers. Sloane's all, I trust that this won't be too much of a stretch for either of you? I mean, since you're so close and affectionate with each other and everything.
Of course, this actually IS a stretch for both of them, and Spy Daddy wants to talk about it just as soon as they're out of the meeting. Jack's all, dude? We should talk. Syd's all, fuck off and die, you sneaky son-of-a-bitch. Jack's all, oh yeah? Well, you must have questions, right? You can either be angry, or informed. Which one's it gonna be? Syd kicks him in the nuts and spits in his face, declaring that the time he comes anywhere near her, she's going to do something a little more permanent to his balls that will make procreation an impossible occurrence for him in the years to come.
Or she just retreats to some random conference room and allows Spy Daddy to whip out his handy bug-zapper interference pen and start to explain his abhorrent actions. He's all, sweetie, I was just doing it for your own good! I didn't want you to be a victim! I realize that, in not wanting you to be a victim, I sort of, well, MADE you a victim to my own selfish needs and wants, but, like, I MEANT well. I just wanted you to be tough as nails and able to see through people's facades, ya know? Is that wrong? Syd's all, uh, YEAH, goober! You should have told me the truth before I ended up at SD-6, you malfeasance-making motherfucker. Spy Daddy's all, YEAH, I KNOW! And don't you think I know how much a fucked that up? I wanted you to join the CIA and team up with me! But Sloane got to you first. Syd's all, yeah? That's a great story, Dad. Can I have milk and cookies and go to bed now? BECAUSE I DON'T BELIEVE A SINGLE WORD OF YOUR FUCKING FAIRY TALE. She stalks out of the room, leaving Spy Daddy alone with his Pursed Lips Of Utter Angst.
Ops Center For Sea-Green Window Glass And Diversionary Plot Points. Syd and Vaughn are following some geeky goon, who tells them that the feed from Mama Hari's hearing will be coming in right on that monitor over there in the corner that we don't give a shit about. As they start to watch, it becomes apparent that there's no judge. Instead, Senator Douglas is making some sort of announcement. Basically, there ain't no trial. Irina's been found guilty on all counts and has been sentenced to death by lethal injection. Oh, and that injection's taking place in exactly three days. Yeah, because ALL death row inmates, especially those specializing in counter-espionage, are iced less than ninety-six hours after their sentencing. Hello? Ted BUNDY, anyone? That guy brutalized countless women, and HE managed to hang around longer than it takes to order and receive Ratchet and Clank from Amazon.
Still, Syd and her French Twist Of Fortification are moderately shocked. Seriously, the new 'do is scaring me quite a bit. It's very Breakfast at Tiffany's for a girl whose main goal in life is to take down a bunch of baddies with several sweetly placed roundhouse kicks. Anyway, Samurai Syd and her Bun Of Brute Force take a seat on the floor of her apartment and write a letter to Deputy Director Devlin about Spy Daddy's responsibility in the Madagascar explosion.
While we listen to Syd's voice-over, we watch her jog through The CIA Park Of Potential Mother/Daughter Reunions. She stops to take a breather and dumps her hand-written note to Devlin into the cup of the "homeless guy" who's actually a CIA sentry. The sentry informs Ops that they have a dead drop, and they send someone to retrieve it.
And then we're at my ninth grade homecoming dance, and Bob Dobeus is asking me to dance. I mumble something about "no, thanks" and then proceed to hit the floor with my best friend Kendra Thraman while the Violent Femmes spit out "Blister in the Sun." Or we're at Foolio's Bistro Of Brouhahas, where the music fluctuates from techno-hypno-spy-disco to circa-mid-eighties-grunge-precursor-pop. Syd's angsting to Will about how she used to want her mom dead, but now she's trying to save her. What is UP with that? Will's all, I know I should say something profound and deep here, but I can't stop thinking about how cute your butt looks in those pants, so I'll just say something about how you did the right thing and then go back to dreaming about your butt.
Syd finally moves on from her favorite subject, namely HER, and asks Will how he's doing. As it turns out, Will got his thirty-day sobriety chip. Now, even though he was never really a drug addict (large vomit scene notwithstanding), he's pretty proud of this false accomplishment. "Oh, by the way," he continues, "you know anybody who needs a car? I'm hockin' mine." Syd's all, whuh? Why? Will's all, hey, some of us aren't international double agents with offshore bank accounts, okay? It's either sell the car or stop paying my student loans, and I can't deal with having bad credit AND a criminal record. Oh, dude. Fuck your student loans. And while you're at it, fuck the IRS. I've been saying fuck you to both of them for years. And I'm none the worse for wear.
Syd tries to offer Will the money, even though they both know he's not gonna go for it. Still, it's something a friend would do. I mean, I wouldn't do it, but I'm not really a very good friend. Any of the three people who still speak to me will attest to that. ["Don't believe it, folks! She lent me Viggo for ten whole minutes once!" -- Sars] Foolio walks over and starts obsessively cleaning plates that are just sitting on the table between Will and Syd. And she's wearing rubber dish gloves. And she's bitching and moaning about being rear-ended by a bunch of frat guys. And I'm wondering why, even though Merrin Dungey is a very talented actress, this character is still even a PART of this show? Enough already! She's got the restaurant, she's not around much anymore -- just give Merrin Dungey her own damn show and BE DONE WITH IT. I don't care what you do with this storyline or this character, as long as you DON'T DO IT ON THIS SHOW.
Blah blah blah, there's a hamburger behind you. Bling blam blooey, restaurant reviewer guy's coming. Flim fling flotsam, I gotta go back to cleaning. Crick crack cupola, I gotta catch a plane. God, was this whole scene even necessary? Viggo! Viggo! Stop playing with that new light saber I bought you and go get me a drink! I thought I could actually make it through this recap without alcohol but I was wrong, wrong, WRONG. Do we have any lighter fluid in the house? Mommy's thirsty.
Back at Ops Center, Vaughn's traipsing along with Devlin, blithering on about Project Christmas and how the KGB developed their own version of the kiddie spy program. Apparently, one of the CIA's Russian contacts sent over a sample of a list of questions that were posed to a bunch of first graders in Russia years ago in order to determine what kids would make good agents in the Soviet Secret Service. Why does this matter? Because the questions are remarkably similar to the questions that appear on a standardized IQ test that's given to first graders in the U.S.
See, Vaughn's thinking about the rumor that went around during the Cold War about the Soviets raising sleeper agents as Americans. Know what that means? Well, to Vaughn, it means that, even though it sounds terribly paranoid, the Soviets very well may have been carrying out this sleeper agent plan. By testing American kids with that list of questions, they could amass a potential talent pool of ready-and-willing baby spies. Devlin's all, here's fifty cents. Go down to the local drugstore, find a phone, plug in the coins, dial 411, and request the phone number for someone who really gives a shit.
Vaughn's not giving up that easily, however. "I just think it would be interesting to analyze tests from --" he tries to spit out. Devlin cuts him off, saying that not a single agent can be spared at the moment, especially not for some stupid delusional interest of Vaughn's that's really nothing but a history lesson. Devlin walks away as Vaughn looks down at the Russian transmittal and wonders just who he could get to look into this information for him. Who? Who has lots of time on their hands but not lots of money? Who can't get a job in the real world because his reputation's been ruined, making it impossible to make ends meet? Hmmm...I wonder...
Private Plane Of Fatherly Fuckups. Syd's sitting off by herself, making notes about the upcoming mission. Spy Daddy's busy playing a quick game of Tetris on his handy pocket PC. He's having trouble concentrating, however, because he seems far more intent on sneaking glances at his daughter, who's doing a stellar job of ignoring the hell out of him. Finally, Spy Daddy can't stand it anymore and gets up, making his way over to the seat opposite Sydney. And, might I say for the record, Victor Garber is wearing all black and looks remarkably dashing? He is and he does. Without a doubt.
Syd's not really pleased that Spy Daddy's come a-callin'. He's all, I see your mother's latest maneuver had its intended effect. Syd's all, and just what "maneuver" might that be, Daddy-o? The one where she PLEADED GUILTY AND ACCEPTED THE DEATH SENTENCE WITHOUT APPEAL? Actually, this is precisely the maneuver to which Spy Daddy's referring. Syd's all, ooooh, yeah, she's got us right where she wants us with that move, dude. Nice thinking. Spy Daddy's all, not "us," sweetheart, YOU. Mommy's not an idiot, you know. She probably figured out pretty quickly that I'm a backstabbing prick who set her up. So, like, WHY do you think she pled guilty then? Huh? Because she had a crisis of conscience? Heh. Right. THAT WOMAN HAS NO CONSCIENCE.
Syd's all, okay, you know WHAT? Your consistently paranoid jealousy is really starting to get on my wick. I think Mom realized the verdict was a foregone conclusion. Now go back to your little video games, you pathetic pisher. Spy Daddy's all, oh, please! The woman pled guilty so there wouldn't be a trial! She didn't want you to see photos of the agents she savagely murdered, including Vaughn's father. "She knew if you sat through that, whatever sympathy she'd manage to elicit from you would vanish," Jack spits. "So, she cast herself as the victim to compel you to save her and guess what? You fell for it."
Okay, he's really stretching here. I mean, it's obvious that he loves her in his own fucked-up way, but accusing Irina of pleading guilty just so Syd won't see the carnage she's responsible for? Hello? Syd can check that shit out any old time she wants in the CIA archives, I imagine. I mean, the only thing keeping Syd from being exposed to the horrific past of her mother is, quite frankly, Syd. All Spy Mommy's doing is trying to get in good with her daughter. I'm sure her intentions are much more nefarious and complex than that, but for the moment, I'm finding it pretty damn hard to believe that Mama Hari would plead guilty to something she didn't even do just to pull the Alpaca wool over her daughter's often-tearful eyes.
Spy Daddy pulls the letter that Syd wrote to Devlin out of his inner coat pocket, saying that he wants to give her a second chance to think things over. Syd's all, uh, how in the HELL did you get that? Instead of answering her, Spy Daddy clenches, "I spent a decade with this woman. And another twenty years analyzing how she could have deceived me for so long. Trust me when I tell you, I am protecting you."
Okay. That's it. Syd's had enough. "No, you're not. I think you loved Mom so much that when she left you, you lost your soul. You know what else I think? I think the kind of man who'd use his own daughter to frame her mother, who'd test psych experiments on her when she was six years old, is the kind of man who looks at his daughter and sees his greatest mistake." "You can't honestly believe that," he says calmly. "It's true, isn't it?" she says, tears for once not springing to her eyes. "If Mom hadn't fooled you, if you hadn't been so gullible, I never would have been born." Syd dismisses her father by returning to her review of her mission. Spy Daddy takes his dismissal with his normal stoic expression and leaves. Unfortunately, they're fifty thousand feet in the air, so unless he plans on strapping on a parachute and sucking portions of the ozone, he's gonna have to return to his saved Tetris game and pretend like he and Syd are traveling on two different planes.
Parking Garage Roof Of Unlikely Heterosexual Bonding Friendships. Will's chillin' on the hood of his jeep when Vaughn screeches up in his Men In Black Tommy Lee Jones Special. They shake hands and Will's all, thanks fer comin', dude. Vaughn's all, no problemo. What up and shit? What, so now Will has special permission to call up Vaughn, like, whenever the hell he feels like it? When did this happen? What's , beers and brats in the back room of Yakzie's? Trying to pick up the waitresses while various sports programs blare in the background? Jagermeister shots with watered-down Bud chasers? What is going ON here? Actually, Willy Boy needs a job. With all the publicity surrounding his drug thang, he's SOL for a paying position out there in today's job market. Amen, brother. I hear your pain and I raise you sixteen more weeks of unemployment while several ad agencies shove their thumbs up their asses and wonder why oh WHY aren't there talented writers out there who will work for crack money? THEY'RE RIGHT OVER HERE IN RAVENSWOOD DRINKING THEIR WAY THROUGH A BOTTLE OF THUNDERBIRD, YOU MORONS! Now get on the stick and hire me already!
Ahem. Anyway, Will's all, look, I'm not asking to be an agent or anything; I just need a job. I'm willing to work a desk job or something, okay? You hearing me on this, First Lieutenant Forehead Crease? Vaughn's all, I hear ya, dude, but unfortunately, we can't employ you 'cuz you have a criminal record. Will's all, uh, YEAH, and I have that criminal record because of a drug habit I never had, which came courtesy of the CI-fuckin'-A. Vaughn looks incredibly apologetic, but offers no reasonable solution. Will kind of laughs and looks around, wondering why he bothered to call this ineffectual piece of shit in the first place. "Know anyone who wants to buy a car?" Will laughingly asks. Even though the purchase of a car has absolutely nothing to do with that whole KGB IQ test thing that Vaughn was yammering on to Devlin about, for some reason, Will's comment makes Vaughn very clearly THINK about that KGB IQ test, and he whips the Russian question list out of his pocket. "There might be something," he says. "I have a discretionary fund I use for informants. Totally off the books. I could pay you to do research." Even though this makes Will wonder if Vaughn's going to pay him to check in on Syd and make sure she's not banging the local chapter of the Hell's Angels, Vaughn's offer of off-the-books moola still elicits mounds and heaps of gratitude from Will.
Vaughn hands over the list of questions and explains that all he needs Will to do is find out if any of the questions ever appeared on a standardized IQ test over the last twenty years. Will's all, okay, the more you tell me, the faster I can get you what you want. Vaughn's all, dude, you're paid by the hour. Take your time. You're preaching to the choir, Vaughn. I know whereof I speak. Working as a freelancer for the past six months, I learned how to make a two-hour project last a week. Yes, I'm probably single-handedly responsible for the company folding and being absorbed by the long arm of another company. No, I don't care. Yes, I'm very grateful to have that extra five hundred bucks in the bank due to over-billing. No, I don't care if you think I'm a bad person. I just bought the original Japanese version of The Ring and I have over-billing to thank for it, so you can just shut the hell up now.
Geneva. Land Of Luscious Chocolates And Even More Luscious International Bank Accounts. Spy Daddy and Spy Barbie enter a building and are greeted by a Swiss-flavored gentleman who introduces himself as the hospital administrator. Jack is trussed up like a Southern-fried version of a Christmas goose, complete with a whacked-out Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil accent. There's some healthy Delta-inspired overacting on both Jack and Syd's parts, as their hideous cracker accents illustrate. They do their best to give the impression of a loving father and daughter, but as soon as the administrator's back is turned, that façade is dropped like a hot buttered roll.
Okay, so Spy Daddy's got this suitcase handcuffed to his wrist that can't be removed, not even during surgery, because it provides secure access to his money. Or some such shit. I'm just going to clue y'all in on something. This entire hospital scene is so completely ludicrous that it's laughable. I mean, it kicks ass and it's all sorts of fun, but for those of you out there looking for accurate reporting of all things medical, well, you've come to the wrong place, my friends. Just a warning -- there's going to be a whole lotta "Syd kicks ass and then does something or something else with a syringe"-type recapping going on over here. Love it or leave it, people.
Jack and Syd are wheeled into the operating room, with the powers that be at Alias providing viewers with a fleeting glance up BOTH of their gowns. Dingus can be heard in a voice-over, blathering on about how they're going to Geneva to pick up the virus. You know, just in case we're so hopped up on Quaaludes that we don't remember FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO.
We switch to The Conference Room Of Endless Expositions as Dingus tells Jack how to operate the handcuff on the briefcase so that it will emit anesthetic from the briefcase. Now, you're probably wondering, as Dingus assumes we are, if anesthetic is pumping into the room, how in the HELL are Syd and Jack going to escape the effects? Why, because they'll have ingested a handy anti-anesthetic prior to entering the hospital, that's how! That Dingus! He thinks of everything!
Back in the hospital room, the anesthesia is releasing. In one fell swoop, all the doctors are down for the count. Syd and Jack calmly exit the hospital room disguised as doctors, and pass some stationed guards without fanfare. They make it to the area where the virus-laden patients are being held; Spy Daddy quickly takes out the two doctors on call with a tranquilizer gun, informing Syd that they'll be out for fifteen minutes. He gets to work downloading the viral research and instructs Syd to get a blood sample from Patient Zero.
Syd enters Patient Zero's room and is alarmed at how terrible the guy looks. What, did she think he'd be sitting up watching reruns of Jerry Springer dubbed in French? She shoves her hands into the Bubble Boy gloves that are required wearing when you're dealing with an Ebola-like virus. She's starting to take a sample when Patient Zero suddenly wakes up and grabs her arm, gasping, "Irina? Irina?" Now, even though the guy's obviously only got about twenty minutes 'til the pearly gates, Syd seems unable to extricate herself from his grasp and calls for a Dad Rescue. He quickly comes to her aid and barks that she shouldn't struggle, because the gloves could rip and she could become infected. He ups Zero's morphine. Just before Zero rides off on the wings of the dove, he whispers "Irina" one last time, definitely catching Spy Daddy's attention. With a last gasp, Zero slaps a bloody hand up against the Bubble Boy plastic, then passes out. Spy Daddy spits that his vitals have fallen below blah blah blah medical-gobbledy-gook-cakes, so that means the doctors, wherever they are, are gonna come running.
Spy Daddy returns to the computer and requests an immediate exit from a chopper nearby. Syd gathers her sample, being careful not to, you know, DRINK any of it, lest she infect herself and gross us out anymore. She wipes the sloppy end of the sample on Zero's gown, because I'm sure that he's not RIDDLED with the fucking disease on EVERY SQUARE INCH OF HIS BODY, and then gets the hell out of his room. At the same time, Spy Daddy nabs himself a copy of the viral research.
They exit the research area just as a couple of real doctors meander down the hall past them. Of course, as soon as they reach the desk, they discover the tranquilized doctors and put out a security call. Syd and Jack duck into a blood lab and discuss how they have to make it to the roof but they only have enough tranquilizer darts to take out four people. Jack has the brilliant idea of mixing ammonia and iodine together, creating an unstable compound that will most likely cause a welcome diversion when it explodes in the faces of the guards that are quickly approaching down the hall. That Jack! He thinks of everything! Especially when it involves blowing shit up!
As the chopper lands on the roof, Syd and Jack complete their little spinning bomb tray and exit the blood lab, only to be greeted by a group of jaunty beret-wearing soldiers. The soldiers discover the tranq guns, and they're probably about to either kick the shit out of Spy Daddy and Spy Barbie or just simply arrest them when the homemade bombs conveniently blow up, knocking the door straight off the hinges and taking out a couple of guards. The best part of this scene is really just watching Spy Daddy and Spy Barbie kick mutual soldier ASS. There's a lot of shaky camera stuff going on, so it's kind of hard to tell if Victor Garber's actually doing any fighting, but really, who gives a shit? Father and daughter sharing a spy-licious ass-whumping? That's worth the price of admission ANY day.
Spy Barbie shouts at her father to go bypass the lockdown while she holds off the guards. Spy Daddy hoofs it over to the elevator at the end of the hall and starts doing what his daughter told him to as she grabs a couple of guns and starts double-whammying the stumbling guards. No, she doesn't kill any of them. Will you NEVER learn? Syd makes it to the elevator, but Spy Daddy hasn't accomplished his duty yet, so she's sort of stuck there with her cheese breezing out in the wind. The soldiers are shooting at her, but they're obviously all members of the Blind Boys of Alabama, because they couldn't hit a dead duck in the middle of a dry riverbed.
Spy Daddy's all, I need ten seconds, dude! Gimme more time! Spy Barbie's all, dude, I ask you to do ONE thing, ONE THING, and then she starts shooting the shit out of the guards. There's this cool little moment where Syd unloads her empty cartridges and goes, "Ammo!" She spins over to Spy Daddy, and he inserts her fresh clips and returns to his task. Hee. I love cool action shit like that, even if it's totally unrealistic. Hell, I'm a huge fan of Bond films, and they're about as realistic as The X-Files.
Yeah, so, shoot shoot. Elevator fixed. Make it to the rooftop. Ride the helicopter home. On the 'copter, Syd's looking out the window rather mournfully. Spy Daddy's all, you're wondering why Patient Zero mistook you for your mother, right? "He worked for her," he says. "I skimmed the research as it was downloading. Before she surrendered to the CIA, Irina deliberately ordered Sark to expose some of her own operatives to the virus in order to study it. Ask yourself if that's a person worth saving." Dude. DUDE. Give up the GHOST, okay? I mean, he has a point and everything, but give it a rest already. One more word outta you about how much Irina sucks donkey balls, and Syd's gonna be out that door and disappearing into the remotest corner of Borneo before you can say "witness protection."
Back in Hell-Lay, Captain Crinoline is telling Jack Be Nimble about the wine with the counteractive agent in it. Jacky's all, okay, I got two ways to explain this. One, Auntie Em predicted your heinous plot to "end her suffering" as you so eloquently put it, took the proper countermeasures to prevent her own death, and is now stalking your sorry ass; or two, someone out there wants you to believe that Auntie Em's still alive -- or worse, they'll try to make the Alliance believe it too. Detective Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer's all, okay, well, if the Alliance thinks that I failed to carry out the only condition of my admittance, that I've been betraying them the whole time, then, like, they're gonna think that my whole division is rogue. Well, um, I don't quite get how Sloane fucking up his entry into the Alliance has anything to do with the rest of the division, but, like, whatever. Brigadier Ballyhoo is basically just threatening Jack by implying that if he's fucked, they're ALL fucked. Jacky gets the point. And then some.
Subbasement Of Dreams And Desires. Syd's overanalyzing her whole father/daughter/mother situation, blathering on and on about how, even though she'll never be able to forgive her father for what he's done, maybe he's been right about her mother all along. Oh, whatever. Just show Lena Olin again, okay? Then you can talk about her all you want. You can discuss the permanent scars on your psyche caused by her abandonment and eventual return from the dead. You can wax pathetic about how you're practically an orphan. What-EVER. Just bring Lena back! Is that TOO MUCH TO ASK?
Vaughn's all, your father's asking you to let your mom die for something she MIGHT do. I don't think you can live with that, dude. There's an uncomfortable pause, and then they move away from the sad subject of absentee parents and onto the Geneva trip. Vaughn tells her that the CIA is analyzing the contents of the disc they brought back, as well as the blood sample, and if SD-6 plans on using the virus as a weapon, the CIA may be able to get a jump on the antidote, thanks to Syd and Jack. Syd grabs her coat and looks like she's ready to go when Vaughn tells her that Will came to him about a job. Syd's all, whuh? Since when is it okay for one of my non-boyfriends to go to the other non-boyfriend for a JOB? Huh? Why did NO ONE clear this with me first? Vaughn's all, hey, take it easy, Catherine Tramell. Nobody's stepping on any toes, here. I just hired him to do some off-the-books research, okay? Keep your ice pick in your cleavage and back up a couple steps, sister. Syd's all, well, fine, okay, what's he working on then? Vaughn's all, nothing important -- just the KGB version of Project Christmas, that's all. Of course, Will doesn't know that. However, if you're bored and you feel like fucking with him, you can feel free to let him know alllllll about it. Syd gets all googly and says, "That was really nice of you. Thanks." Vaughn gets all googly back and says, "You're welcome." Smiles Of Impending Sexual Conduct are exchanged. Vaughn mentally crosses "Get Other Non-Boyfriend Stupid Job In Order To Increase Chances Of Seeing Syd Naked" off his list.
Meanwhile, on the streets of Hell-Lay, Lieutenant Loch Ness Monster and his stalwart companion Jack and the Beanstalk are making their way to some corporate lunch. They're about to enter the limo when Petty Officer Odd Fellow spots the figure of his supposedly dead wife standing across the street. And she looks mighty peeved as well. Of course, you'd be mighty peeved if your husband offed you in the name of mercy but really just did it to get ahead at the office. She disappears just as quickly as she appeared, but Regent Romper Room's curiosity has been piqued. Ron Rifkin's great in this entire scene, by the way. Not that he's not great in every other scene, but he's done such a good job of making Sloane a scary son of a bitch that it's really kind of sad and alarming to watch Uncle Bonkers descend into madness. And that's great acting, people.
First Mate Fipple Flute dodges traffic in pursuit of Auntie Em, with Jack following closely behind. Auntie Em's trail leads to the interior of a church. Heh. Like there are churches in L.A. Detective Depth Sounder now officially looks like a bat out of hell. He's sweating, his eyes are wild, and he jumps about five feet in the air when a priest taps him on the shoulder and asks if he can help. Agent Aurora Borealis is all, yeah, padre, dig this, I'm on about three grams of mescaline and, like, did you see a woman come in here? Just now? The priest is all, uh, no, dude, but could you hook me up with your contact? Because that mescaline looks like it's treating you riiiiiiight.
Jack approaches and intervenes, pulling a hyperventilating Lieutenant Lackaday off to the pews. Officer Yoko Ono is all, you tell me you saw her, dude, or I will go all sorts of Dennis Hopper on your ass! Jack's all, I saw a woman, okay? But that's about as big a commitment as I'm gonna make. You're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, dude. Pull it together. Sergeant Stammer Head is all, no no no! She's alive! ALIVE! Jack's all, well, there's one way to clear this whole mess up, princess. Monsieur Muddlehead is all, oh shit, I gotta go make like Ed Gein and do some graveyard digging...
Ops Center Of Moody Lighting And Missing Swedish Actresses. Syd's spilling it to Devlin about Spy Daddy's involvement with the Madagascar blow-up. Devlin's all, save it, sister. Your dad beat you to it when he handed me his statement this morning. And guess what? A hearing's been scheduled with the Joint Intelligence Committee. Syd's all, but my intention wasn't to punish my dad; it was to stop my mother's execution. Devlin's all, well, it's a little late for that, honey. Excuse me, I have to take this call. Oh, actually, it's someone asking that you head down to medical services. What's that? Why didn't they just call you? Well, that's a very good question. Hey, why didn't you just call her? Oh, because I hadn't had enough screen time so far this season and I'm actually J.J. Abrams' great-uncle? Well, that's a good enough reason for me!
Syd heads down to medical services. Wow, this Ops Center has everything. High-security prison cells, closed-circuit television feeds, radar-capable computer screens, medical facilities...who needs the actual CIA offices when you can have the over-equipped and highly-funded Ops Center? Syd enters a room with several sweater-vested doctors. The lead doctor asks Syd how long she was in proximity to the Big Red Ball in Taipei. Syd's all, about a minute or something. "I made it to the other side of the door," she continues, "but Vaughn was submerged for, I dunno, maybe about another minute or two. Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Doctor Sweater Vest is all, we believe the Big Red Ball is the source of the virus that infected the Geneva guys and we think you and Vaughn may have been infected.
So, looks like Vaughn and Syd are due for some blood tests and urine samples. Syd's all, look, if Sloane pages me, this is gonna be a problem. Doctor Sweater Vest is all, don't worry about that, your dad's covering for you. Oh, and Sloane's far too busy donning his Special Robes Of Summoning Dead Emily to worry about you and your stupid fucking schedule. Trust us. He's about eight steps away from a straightjacket and a room made of Nerf, okay? He could give a damn about you.
Syd goes to the one examination/quarantine room that the Ops Center has (because, even though the CIA can afford to send entire teams of people to Budapest to watch over a group of errant spy kids, they can't afford to have TWO quarantine rooms that might, you know, prevent the virus from traveling from Vaughn, who is SO infected, and Syd, who SO is not) and stands outside, looking in at Vaughn, who's sitting on the edge of his bed in just his undershirt. He looks very nervous and REALLY hot. Yeah, I'm going straight to hell. The man could be dying and I only care about how cute he looks. Syd enters, one sleeve rolled up to show where blood was drawn, and just looks at Vaughn. "I know," he rasps. She walks over to him and sits down on his bed. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was hoping for a little sumpin' sumpin', but all we get is a really sweet and heartfelt moment where Vaughn just puts his arm around Syd's shoulders and she leans her head down and just rests it on his strong and manly shoulder.
After the break, we're back with the sickies, as Syd sleeps on her bed, hands folded neatly beneath one cheek. Vaughn's quietly watching her sleep, which, depending on what floats your boat, is either incredibly sweet or incredibly creepy. If it were me, I'd think it was incredibly sweet, but I'd be mortified, because I know I totally drool in my sleep and to think that my boyfriend were just lying there watching spit spill out of my mouth is not the most romantic thing I could picture.
What's that, Viggo? You think it's CUTE when I drool? Oh, you're just being nice. Do you want something? You're serious? Well, I think it's cute when you fart while you sleep. Except, of course, if you've had a curry for dinner, in which case, I usually sleep on the sofa, because dude? That shit is NASTY.
Luckily, Syd's not drooling or farting. Vaughn continues to watch her until she wakes up and says hi. They smile at each other, and Syd asks if he closed his eyes at all. He's all, yeah, kind of. Did you know you talk in your sleep? Syd full-on blushes and asks what she said. "'Don't frost the pie!'" he gigglingly informs her. "It seemed really important." Okay, they are BOTH too cute for words in this scene. She's all blushy and embarrassed, and he's all charmed and besotted. Their talk turns serious as Syd asks Vaughn if he thinks they're sick. Vaughn doesn't know. "Vaughn," she says, leaning forward, "can I tell you something?" She is SO gonna tell him she loves him! She SO IS! But just then Doctor Sweater Vest storms in, disrupting the romantic and earnest atmosphere. He informs Syd that she tested negative for antibodies. She's free to go. He goes on to tell Vaughn that his tests are inconclusive, and that they found a heightened level of antibodies in his bloodstream. This could mean he's going to start bleeding out at any moment, or he could just be fighting off a wicked head cold. Let's hope it's the latter.
Syd pipes up that Sark started testing Patient Zero at the first sign of infection. "What was the sign?" she asks. "Hemorrhaging. From the fingernails," Doctor Sweater Vest reluctantly informs them. He quickly leaves, and Syd looks concernedly at Vaughn. He assures her that he'll be fine and then reminds her that her dad's hearing is in an hour, so she'd better get a move on. Syd puts her boots on, which for some reason we get a shot of; it's like they're trying to tell us that Syd actually TOOK HER SHOES OFF in order to sleep. Like that's a precursor to sex or something. I just don't know why they showed that. Or why she took off her shoes at all. Vaughn didn't take off HIS shoes. Oh, whatever. I've already spent too much time on this moment as it is. Syd leaves, telling Vaughn that she'll see him soon. As she passes the window, she stops and looks at him sitting on the bed, looking fairly nervous and worried. Finally, Syd leaves him behind.
Joint Intelligence Committee: An Exercise In Oxymoronic Administration. Senator Douglas is back, and this time he's trying to determine Jack's punishment. This entire session is pretty much just an excuse to allow Jack to talk about how much his daughter means to him so that Syd can overhear it on her closed-circuit television and realize that Daddy loves her after all! Senator Doodyhead is all, do you have anything to say for yourself? Jack's all, yeah, I'm real sorry about that whole explosion thing, but I still think Mama Hari's a big ol' bitch who's up to no good. Senator Doody's all, oh, is that what we're calling "lying to your superiors" nowadays? Blah blah blah, why'd you change your mind and turn yourself in? Bling blam blooey, my reasons are my own, Nosy Parker. Flim flam flakey, this ain't the first time you've displayed rogue behavior, so, like, give it up, punk. Why the change of heart? Ding dang doodle, my daughter convinced me that I acted like an unethical asshole. Ming mang mookie, nice try, Cowboy Junkie, but ain't it a fact that you knew your little sweetie planned to turn your ass IN, and that you made it in before her, beating her by barely an hour, in order to save your butt some prison time? "No, sir! That is not the case!" Jack spits. Seeing that he can't get away with just that, he goes on, "Sydney Bristow, my daughter, has come to believe that when I look at her, I see the embodiment of all my flaws. This afternoon when I learned that she may have been exposed to a life-threatening disease, I realized she might die believing that. But nothing could be further from the truth."
We check in with Sydney here, who's watching on her monitor. Spy Daddy's conveniently enjoying his close-up at the precise moment that he says, "When I look at her, when I look at the little girl who raised herself to become one of the most extraordinary human beings, and one of the finest agents I've ever had the privilege of knowing, I see only the promise of my own redemption." And yes, Syd's crying now. "Turning myself in," Jack continues, "was the only way I could think of to make that clear to her. To prove that despite my limited abilities as a father, I love her more than I could ever say."
The following day, Syd enters Ops Center and comes face-to-face with Spy Daddy. They both sort of glower at each other from a distance until Syd finally walks over to him. Spy Daddy's all, how'd you persuade Doody to drop the charges? Syd's all, I told him I have a secret that only you and I know about, a secret that is such a threat to national security that not even the CIA could be trusted to contain it. Spy Daddy's all, and what secret is that, Petunia?
Back in the limo, Syd informs Senator Doody that a United States senator is working for the Alliance. She's all, we have evidence of wire transfers and other shit. Doody's all, well, who is it? Syd's all, do you think we KNOW that? But, like, without my mother and father, I'll be forced to hand this case over to the FBI, and you don't want that, now do you? Yeah, it so doesn't even make sense.
Back at Ops, Spy Daddy's all, there's no senator in the Alliance's pocket, sweetheart. You lied! Just like daddy taught you! Good girl! Syd's all, don't praise me, you absentee father -- I ain't proud of what I did. Spy Daddy's all, look, I may not agree with your decision to interact with your bitch of a mother, but I will, from now on, promise to respect that it is your decision to make. Syd's all, thanks for giving me permission to DO SOMETHING FOR WHICH NO PERMISSION IS NECESSARY! Spy Daddy's all, don't raise your voice to me, you spoiled brat! They're bringing in your precious mother now; I'm sure you'll want to see her. I'm off to find a bottle of scotch that's been aged more than twelve years...
Yay! It's the return of Lena Olin! Armed guards lead Mama Hari back into Ops Center. The time we see her, she's lying on her cot with her back to Sydney, who's watching her through the glass.
And then we're in a place where dreams come true. Vaughn's bathroom. Well, let's face it -- any place where Vaughn is is a place where dreams come true, so why should a bathroom be any different? He's shaving and sporting a very sexy black tank top that goes really well with his tattoo. He swipes at his face and goes to dip the razor in the hot water, only to stop suddenly. He looks down at his fingers, and yes, they're bleeding from the nails.
on Alias: There's some discussion of Sydney saving the man she loves, and we're all under the impression that J.J. Abrams is just fucking with us because there's no WAY this show is going to offer up the sacrificial lamb of love this early in the game. J.J. really has a SICK sense of humor.