Previously on Alias: I have no fucking idea, because my computer bailed on me early this morning due to a lovely new worm virus and I've spent all fucking day rebuilding it in safe fucking mode and I am just now, at 8:00 PM on Saturday, finally getting to the fucking recap, and I so totally will be awake until all fucking hours just to get it in before, say, FUCKING JUNE.
Owen? Baby? Bring me a keg of Stoli Vanilla and a straw. I am currently in HELL.
Right. So, Auntie Em's dead and Dixon did the killing. Remember this, okay? It'll be important later. After the extended "previouslys," we open up on a moody night shot, complete with torrential downpour. Syd and Dix flank Auntie Em's coffin as a hearse backs up to it. The hearse is all, "Beep. Beep. Beep." Heh. It's supposed to be a lead-in to a serious and heartbreaking scene, and I'm already giggling at the "backing up" noises coming from the hearse. Perhaps I shouldn't have had all that crack for breakfast.
Dixon tells Syd that he didn't have a clean shot at Sloane, but he took it anyway, and that's why Auntie Em ate some Tuscan grass. Then he informs her that he's putting in for reassignment. Syd tries to reassure him with a rather weak, "If I'd had the shot, I might have taken it." Gee, thanks, Syd. So YOU would have killed Auntie Em too? Niiiice. Dix then says that he knows how much Auntie Em meant to Syd and how sorry he is for having made her all dead and shit. It's a lovely piece of acting on Carl Lumbly's part, but he says "sorry" in this sort of Canadian/Minnesotan accent, so it comes out "soooory," and my friend Viva always says "soooory" when she's being insincerely sorry and basically NOT sorry, and I really need to keep away from the crystal meth because WOW am I tweaked right now.
Satan Sloane's Silo Of Secrecy. Agent Avenger is sitting at his desk, brooding, as Spy Mommy does her damnedest to get his bloody attention by repeating his name over and over again. I don't know why she's bothering, really. That damn bandage on her upper arm is seriously big enough to attract ANYONE'S attention. Like, it's bigger than her HEAD. Hell, it's bigger than the ROOM. And it's, like, nineteen feet thick. It looks like a water wing, this bandage.
Irina and her Bandage Of Biblical Proportions finally succeed in getting Agent Avenger's attention and she's all, dude. This plan might not hold up, okay? The CIA could totally guess why we were after the genetic database. Agent Avenger's not really interested in the database anymore. Instead, he wants satellite footage of Tuscany. "I want to know who murdered my wife," he says. Um. Well, that's easy, Arvin. YOU DID. Pretty much the second you grabbed your wife by the hand and HAULED ASS ACROSS AN OPEN LAWN, you signed her fucking death warrant, dude. So, screw the footage of Tuscany, man. Just order a hit on yourself and be done with it. Irina's right there! She'll do it! And she's probably hiding a bazooka underneath that gargantuan bandage, so she'll do it right now! For free!
Spy Mommy tries to reason with Dirty Harold over here, and winds up saying that they're really close to finding out what Rambaldi knew. Great. Now maybe we can find out that Sark actually IS Rambaldi, Syd actually IS his sister, and I actually AM not drunk right now. Agent Avenger grouses something about wishing he'd never even heard Rambaldi's name, and Irina engages in some inappropriate touching of her own when she reaches out and comforts Arvin with her hand. No, not like THAT! Ew! And gross! And I think I'll just douse my head in lighter fluid, flick a match, and cleanse my brain of THAT imagery with the purifying fires of death and damnation, okay?
Oops Center. Syd and Spy Daddy are having a little powwow in the hall. Syd's irritated that the CIA still doesn't have any leads on Sloane or her mother. Spy Daddy's all, yeah, well, there's a difference between "intelligence" and "actionable intelligence." There's also a difference between "clever" and "stupid," but it's a very thin line and only goes to eleven and that's not important right now. Syd's all, yeah, well, what about the earrings mom left me? Spy Daddy's all, okay, for the last time, they're PRETTY, all right? And they look gorgeous on you! How many more times do I have to say it?
Syd's all, uh, I was kind of thinking more along the lines of, did y'all find anything out about them? Spy Daddy's all, oh, yeah, that. We couldn't trace the source of the bleep bleeps that came your way the other night, but Marshall's working on it as we speak. Syd's all, oh, GREAT! He's probably licking them because they touched my ears at one point. Ew! Then Syd blathers on about how the Dynamic Duo is acquiring Rambaldi shit, and they tried to access the DNA database so there must be SOME way to predict their move. Well, if the past few episodes are any indication, Sloane will probably do something evil and Irina will look really fucking hot while assisting him.
Syd's all a-twitter about not being able to nab her bitch of a mother and Sloane, and Spy Daddy just shuts her down with a, "Yeah, well, there ain't a clear move to make here, honey. And stop chewing your hair. That's not something a lady does." Syd's all, okay, whatever -- see, I have this folder here with Wife of Slater's interview in it and, like, it's only ten pages long. The hell? Sloane kidnapped her hubby two months ago, and all we have is a stinking ten pages? Spy Daddy's like, oh, honey, you're really reaching here. But if you feel like Wife of Slater wasn't properly debriefed and you have a spare couple of hours, why don't you just go debrief her again? Some more? He stalks off and Syd just looks after him with this expression on her face that's like, "Debrief? What's that? Does it involve removing underwear? Because I can totally see myself doing that to Vaughn, but NOT to Wife of Slater. Sorry. Sydney don't swing that way."
Later that day, Syd and Wife of Slater have a meet-and-greet on a park bench. Syd makes with the nice-nice initially, then quickly cuts to the chase and asks Wife of Slater to head on over to the CIA for a little regression hypnosis therapy. Wife of Slater's all, uh, no offense or anything, but I'm not really fond of the government poking around in my head. Syd's all, hey, you don't have to tell ME about that. I'm not fond of the government poking around ANYWHERE on my body. Unless, of course, by "government" you mean "Michael Vartan."
Syd's all, yeah, so, anyway, if you don't help us out, your husband might wind up dead. Wife of Slater, absolutely shocked at the audacity of Sydney suggesting that she in any way might be responsible for the untimely demise of her beloved husband, goes a little Bristow on Sydney's ass. She gets all huffy and shit, gathers up her son, and hits the "I'm only pissy 'cuz I'm actually a Russian spy" road. Syd just rolls her eyes at Wife of Slater's retreating back and makes a mental note to poke Wife of Slater with pointy sticks later on after the CIA captures her sorry double-agent spying ASS.
Satan Sloane's Silo Of Secrecy. Christian Slater's back, and this time he forgot to shave. He also apparently forgot to shower, shampoo, and give himself a facial because, dudes? He's looking VERY rough around the edges right about now. Irina enters and walks across the room as we get a totally useless and weird shot of her walking. Like, it goes on for five minutes. And she's wearing really tight pants and three-inch heels and she's walking like a show pony. She is. She's fucking PRANCING across the room. I'm sorry but, I don't care how hot Lena Olin is. This shot is just BIZARRE. She finally makes it over to Slater and says something about needing his help with this DNA database "We're looking for someone specific," she says. "A man. But it's encrypted. We need you to break it." Wait. Where in the hell did she get the damn database? At the end of the last episode, she'd dropped it. The hell? Oh, lord. It's going to be one of THOSE episodes. Owen? Bring another keg of Stoli Vanilla. And this time, spike it with a little angel dust. Your honey-bunny feels like FLYING.
Slater's all, yeah, uh, you've had me chained up for the past two months without WORD ONE on my family. Sure, I'll help you. If by "help" you mean "give you the finger and fart in your general direction." Irina's all, that's awful sweet of you, but you needn't worry about your family. We let them go. Because we're sweet that way. Go ahead. Phone home. Go on! She hands him a cell phone, and he calls his wife. She answers, and Slater tries to talk to her, but she can't hear him 'cuz Irina fucked with the phone. "Now you have something to live for, [Slater]," Irina purrs.
Ovary Electric. Hee. Hee hee. Syd and Vaughn are lolling around in bed, obviously just having enjoyed some of the most remarkably hot SpySex ever recorded with manmade machinery. Vaughn looks pleasantly spent, and Syd's using her post-orgasmic energy boost to go over Wife of Slater's phone records. Syd's flagellating herself for jumping the gun on Wife of Slater in the park, but Vaughn just lazes something about how no one's harder on themselves than Syd is. Oh, whatever, Shirtless Vaughn. Just shut up and look pretty. He tweaks her nose (aw!) and they kiss a couple of times. Syd returns to her phone record perusal, and we get a really decent shot of Michael Vartan's shoulder tattoo as he exits the bed. Speaking of decent shots, hello Mary! I have the VCR on pause right now and I am enjoying a nice, clean view of Michael Vartan's boxered butt! Yee haw! But a word on the boxers: what are they, size FIFTY? They're so damn baggy, they look like they belong to my late Uncle Seamus. Seriously. Syd could fit in there with him. I mean, unless Vaughn's housing a One-Eyed Snake of Biblical Proportions, there's just no reason for his shorts to be that damn big.
Right. Anyway, Vaughn picks up his backpack and pulls out a blue t-shirt. Syd watches him for a second and then goes, "Vaughn. Um, okay, the backpack's getting a little ridiculous. I mean, it's not nearly as ridiculous as your plaid clown pants over there, but it's pretty damn close." Vaughn's like, uh, well, don't really have a choice here, honey. Syd's all, middle drawer, dude. Yours. Vaughn's all, whuh? With the huh? On the where? Syd's all, dude. It's a drawer, not a PRIEST and a REHEARSAL DINNER. Vaughn's all, I know, but it's still cute. They gee and haw and come-hither at each other for a couple of seconds, and then Vaughn puts his other fat grandpa shorts in the middle drawer.
Just then, Syd discovers some weird stuff on the phone bill. Namely, that there were three calls made from the same number to Slater's house over the last year, they came four months apart, and they were all made on a Monday night at exactly the same time. "And they all lasted one minute," she concludes. Vaughn's all, "Where did the calls come from?" Before Syd can answer his question, we're whisked off to Slater Estates.
"I need to talk to you," says Syd. Wife of Slater's like, is it my husband? Syd's like, uh, no, I believe I just said that I need to talk to you, not your stupid husband. Pay attention. Syd says that the CIA traced the mysterious phone number to a reporter named Gregory Ivanov. "Does that name mean anything to you?" Wife of Slater's all, uh, no. I mean, other than it's a totally generic Russian name that sounds like one of the KGB bad guys in White Nights. Syd blah-blahs about how this Ivanov dude is one of those guys who gives cover to Russian intelligence agents, and that an hour ago he received a fax from an unnamed source. Wife of Slater's all, yeah, that's interesting and everything? But, like, what's it got to do with me and my disappeared hubby? Syd's all, good question! We think your delightful significant other is Russian SVR, sweetheart. Wife of Slater's all, ooooh! That doesn't sound good. What'd the fax say? "A single Russian word," says Syd. "'Razvyaska.' It means 'endgame.'"
Suddenly, Wife of Slater turns away from Syd and starts crying and shaking. Damn. Tracy Middendorf's doing a really nice job here. She turns back around and informs Syd that her hubby's going to die. Syd's all, hey there! Don't jump to conclusions! Wife of Slater's all, uh, no, he's going to bite it. Trust me. How do I know? Why, that would be because I'm the SVR, honey, not my husband.
Wife of Slater, who shall heretofore be referred to as Spy Wife, goes on to say that she didn't want to be hypnotized because she was afraid the CIA would find out that she's a dirty Russian spy. (I'd like to state for the record that I personally have nothing against Russia, or Russians. I think it's a lovely country inhabited by lovely people. That being said, "dirty Russian spy" is just funnier than plain "Russian spy" and if you don't like it, you can suck my left one.)
Then Spy Wife tells Syd that seven years ago, she was ordered to seduce and marry Slater in order to keep tabs on his work. What kind of training does Russian intelligence give its agents, anyway? "How To Subtly Seduce Important Americans Without Raising Red Flags" and "The Feminine Mystique And You: A Match Made In Hell"? Seriously. Spy Wife says something about how she had to put a tracking device in Slater's arm that, unfortunately, has a secondary purpose: it's designed to release fifty milligrams of cyanide into Slater's bloodstream. That's right, folks! It's not just a tracking device, it's a suicide pill! "That's what the fax was about," finishes Spy Wife. "It means it's been activated."
Syd's all, and I suppose you're not authorized to be telling me this, right? Spy Wife's all, yeah, pretty much. I've just committed treason 'cuz I just lurve my husband the most and I want to get him back. Syd just broods at her and tries to draw some parallel between Spy Wife's life plan and Spy Mommy's life plan, even though, like, there's no WAY that the writers intended anything like that AT ALL. EVER.
Cue the kickin' theme music! Yay!
Oops Center. Syd makes tracks over to her father and tells him that she has a lead on Sloane and Irina, but they have to move quickly. Jack's all, yeah, yeah, yeah. Your boyfriend told me aaaaallll about it. They bicker back and forth about Spy Wife and how she should be treated until finally Syd spits out that Spy Wife wants to help, and that the tracking chip she implanted in her husband's arm is activated by a code; if they can get their hands on a locating device, they can enter the code, find Slater, and remove the chip before it makes with the dead stuff.
Yeah. I don't know what's going on. But doesn't Jennifer Garner's hair look SO much better parted on the side? Pretty girl. Pretty pretty. Oooh. Pretty colors. My hair is shiny. Shiny like pennies. I have pretty hair. Pretty pretty. Huh? What's that, Owen? I'm drooling again? Well, don't just stand there! BRING ME A CASHMERE TOWEL, DAMMIT!
Spy Daddy's all, yeah, I got Marshall on that whole "reverse locator" problem or something. Syd's all, I already talked to Marshall and it's going to take that blabbermouth three days to do the whole "reverse locator" bullshit, which means that Slater will be dead by then. So, like, there's some dude who deals in SVR contraband and I'm gonna meet with him. Spy Daddy's all, over my dead body, little girl! And I'm not willing to risk your life on some questionable intel from some dirty Russian spy! Syd's like, "Why would she lie?" Jack's like, "That's precisely the question!" Syd's like, "But she turned herself in!" Jack's like, "She's not the first!" Syd's all, oh, for Christ's sweet sake! Not the whole "I see your mother in every dirty Russian lady spy I come across" thing again! Drop it already!
Syd sort of growls at her father that she realizes that they're discussing a Russian agent who betrayed her husband, but Spy Wife and Spy Mommy are NOT the same person. Victor Garber does this hilarious sideways glance down at the ground that totally clues us all in on how he doesn't want to let on that he was TOTALLY thinking Spy Wife and Spy Mommy WERE the same person. "[Spy Wife's] first instinct, her first thought, was for her husband's life," Syd hisses. "That's your assessment," snits Spy Daddy. "Oh, and neener neener. And neener." Syd's like, okay, look. If we find Slater, we find Sloane and Derevko. Isn't THAT something worth taking risks for? Jack's like, yeah, okay, whatever. We'll move on the dirty Russian spy's statement if, and only if, we can corroborate it. Syd's like, whoa. What happened to YOU? Since when did you start playing it safe, huh? You let my mom outta here 'cuz you thought she could lead us to Sloane. Spy Daddy's all, yeah, not too anxious to have a repeat performance of that, okay? "What if [Slater] dies?" she snaps. "Then he dies," clips Jack. Wow, dude. That's just. Wow. Is it chilly in here?
Mama Hari Lite's Den Of Delights. Syd approaches the glass outside Spy Mommy's former domicile. Spy Wife runs up to her and demands to know where her son is. Syd assures her that her son is fine. They chitter back and forth at each other as we slip outside and see Jack watching their interaction on a monitor at his desk. He gets on the phone and says, "This is Director Bristow. I want solitary confinement imposed on [Spy Wife] immediately. No unapproved visitors. Understand?" Hee. "Director Bristow." Damn. Victor Garber's hot. And, yes, I'm aware that he's old enough to be my father. I don't care. He's all sorts of smoldering right about now.
Back at Mama Hari Lite's Den Of Delights, Syd points her watch at the glass, and while she continues to yammer on about something, her own recorded voice bleats out of the watch. Apparently, even though the security cameras have microphones and we actually just heard the ladies on Jack's monitors, Spy Wife's the only person who can actually hear the Wondrous Watch Message. The message pretty much just says that, since the CIA won't sanction a team to go get Slater, Syd's going in herself.
As the Wondrous Watch Message continues, some agents start heading down the cell hallway in order to remove Syd from the area. The message tells Spy Wife to tap out the locator codes in Morse Code on her arm. Whuh? Huh? Yeah. I know. Just. Uh. Yeah. So, Spy Wife taps out the code, Syd gets it, and the agents come and take her away. Jack sees all this on his monitor, but obviously doesn't think it odd that Syd pointed her watch at the glass for a solid minute, or that Spy Wife crossed her arms and said nothing for another solid minute. Yeah. Jack's obviously been injecting bong water directly into his cerebral cortex.
Satan Sloane's Silo Of Secrecy. Irina, having changed into a sleek white tank and a black jacket, is hovering over Slater's desk, asking him why it's been over twenty-four hours and STILL he's no closer to breaking the code. Slater, hunched over a laptop, just goes, "This database is encoded with an 8192-bit military-grade polymorphic encryption. Unless you want to kidnap a smarter genius than me, it's going to be a little while." Hee. And Christian Slater totally channeled "J.D." from Heathers during that little quip. Irina's all, okay, just tell me what you need to speed this puppy up. Exasperated, Slater just shoves the laptop aside and demands access to a Cray supercomputer. And yes, I made sure to Google that and read all about supercomputers and how they work and how many models there are and what they do and could I BE a bigger geek? Irina just sidles up to Slater and quips something about how he'd better not be stalling. Slater's like, stalling? Did you just accuse me of STALLING? Oh, that does it! I'll give you stalling! He grabs Irina and wraps his handcuffs chain around her neck, throwing her onto the desk. It looks like he just might get away with killing her, but Agent Avenger shows up just in time and shoots Slater in the leg.
Lieutenant Loose Cannon launches himself at Slater, shoving his gun up into Slater's chin. He babbles something about how, a few days ago, he would have done anything to keep Slater alive. Now? He could give two shits. He's about to blow Slater's head off when Irina intervenes and pulls him away, saying that they still need him. Slater just falls to the ground and makes a mental note to tell his agent that his acting gig better involve hot tubs, tropical heat, and about eighteen pounds of room service.
Dwelling de Dixon. Dix and Mrs. Dix are sitting on the sofa, and she's asking him about this whole transfer business and where it might take him. The location's not really important, responds Dix. But the fact that he'll be seated behind a nice big desk IS important. Mrs. Dix is like, oh, so now you'll be happy not being in the field? Dix is like, sweetie? I'll be happy no matter WHAT I'm doing, just as long as you and the kids are by my side. Aw. Mrs. Dix leans forward and is all, honey, Sloane is a BAD dude and you are not responsible for his wife's death. "He put her in harm's way," she finishes. That's what I said, Diane! I'm glad SOMEBODY agrees with me. Now if I can just get Sloane to own up to his responsibilities...Dix looks down at his wife, now kneeling before him, and says that Auntie Em's death isn't the only reason he's putting in for a transfer. "I'm doing it for us," he says. Aw, Part Deux. Mrs. Dix says something about knowing who her husband is and how he's the most decent man she's ever known. Dix gets really emotional, kisses his wife, and then they embrace. Nope. Don't have anything snarky at all to say about this scene.
Meanwhile, in a more evil corner of the world, Francinator's phone is ringing. She picks up, and it's Sloane. He requests something from her "source." Then we're with Syd and her product-placed silver Ford Fuckus. Um. Whatever happened to her big-ass SUV? What, she traded it in for a hatchback? The hell? Anyway, Syd's scooting along some random street, and she quickly clues into the fact that she's being followed. As the following agents radio into base ops, we see Jack respond to the call. He tells his field men to stay with Syd. Syd thinks fast, does a U-turn and pulls into the parking lot of a Rite-Aid. And, yeah, Wal-Mart reference in the recaplet wasn't me stupidly misidentifying the store, okay? I was referring to Jennifer Garner's stint on SNL when she and Amy Pohler played the ridiculously funny Wal-Mart employees. "This Wal-Mart is HUUUUUGE!" "I KNOOOOW!" "The competing weather systems in this Wal-Mart could cause a tornado to happen!" "I KNOOOOOWWWW!" Hee.
Yeah, so, like, anyway, Syd parks it and enters the Rite-Aid. She picks up a basket and passes through a gaggle of stereotypical sorority sisters grazing at the makeup counter. Syd pulls out her phone. Before she can make a call, we're transported over to Oops Center and The Department Of The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name as Agent Sean grills Vaughn about his newly acquired middle drawer. Agent Sean's like, "So, she gave you a drawer, huh?" Vaughn's like, "It was a gesture of convenience." Agent Sean's like, "And, uh, what'd you put in it?" Vaughn's like, "Why do you care?" Agent Sean's like, "Why do I CARE? Do you know how spoiled you are? You know, a drawer! I wish I had a girlfriend to say 'Hey, you want a drawer?' And I'm totally IN LOVE WITH YOU, you self-centered bastard!" Yeah, I just made that last part up for me.
Vaughn's cell starts ringing. "I'll give you a drawer at my place," he snerks. "I don't want a drawer at your place," snits Agent Sean. "Oh, except that I do. And the right side of the bed. Near the bathroom. I pee a lot at night." Vaughn ignores him and picks up the phone. It's Syd, still shopping at the Rite-Aid. Vaughn yammers at her about Spy Wife's intel and then asks where she is. Syd's all, I'm at the drugstore, putting together a tremendously innovative slapdash disguise out of some contact paper, a blonde wig, and some pantyhose. How about you?
Actually, she just blathers something about getting pictures developed and how there's a really good one of the two of them that he can hang in his hallway by the coat rack. Vaughn's all, uh, what's going on? Syd doesn't answer him. Instead, she continues to blather about the pictures being developed and how she used the wrong speed and that she should use a slower speed time. Vaughn somehow gets that Syd's speaking in code and hisses at Agent Sean to give him a pen. What, he doesn't have any pens at his desk? What kind of fucking Boy Scout is he, anyway? Syd rings off after telling Vaughn that she'll see him in about twenty minutes.
Agent Sean's like, so, what was that all about? She wanna give you another drawer or something? Vaughn's all, no, Mildred Pierce, but thanks for asking. Actually, she said something about wanting to hang a picture near my coat rack. Agent Sean's all, yeah? So? You get a drawer AND a picture by your coat rack. Big fucking deal. Vaughn's all, yeah, well, she's never been to my place. I don't HAVE a coat rack. Okay. Um. That's just fucking stupid. They've been sleeping together for several months and Syd's NEVER been to his apartment? What, she can't look up directions to his place on Mapquest and, like, make a surprise visit? As a plot device, this whole "never been to my apartment" thing is completely lame.
Vaughn and Agent Sean go to work on Syd's message, convinced it's some kind of code. Well, duh. Back at Rite-Aid, Syd pays for her basket of disguise, hears the sorority girls giggling nearby, and asks the clerk where the bathroom is. Instead of telling her that they no havey the public restroomy, the guy obviously points her toward the facilities because the thing we see is Syd, changing into her makeshift disguise as "Cannonball" by The Breeders slams across the soundtrack. Oh, and the bathroom? Appears to be a rather large STORAGE ROOM. And Syd seems to have access to EVERYTHING IN IT.
The disguise complete, Syd saunters out of The Storage Room Of Clever Camouflage and bellies up to the sorority sisters over in aisle five. Syd makes some cosmetic small talk with them and then, in her hilarious West Virginia accent, gets herself invited to some lunch exchange. The girls exit the Rite-Aid, and fortunately for Syd, the various flipped-wing Farrah-style hairdos conveniently conceal Syd from the CIA dudes.
Back at Oops Center, Itchy and Scratchy finally decipher Syd's message. Looks like Syd's going to Russia. Wow. They got that from a message about a photo hanging near a nonexistent coat rack in an apartment he's NEVER INVITED HIS GIRLFRIEND TO? These boys are whipsmart, let me tell you.
After the break, Vaughn walks across Oops Center and makes it over to Jack, saying, "You wanted to see me?" Jack's all, yeah, Syd obviously knew I was listening in on your little phone conversation. She also obviously knew that by the time I decoded her little anagram, she'd be halfway to Russia. Um. Well, considering that it took Vaughn all of two seconds to decode her relatively simple message, I'd say Syd would only be about halfway to LAX, but whatever, dude. Jack's like, I'm gonna assume you were going to report her little Russian jaunt to me, and in the near future, when Syd contacts you, I trust you'll be coming straight to me with her whereabouts, right? RIGHT? Vaughn's all, uh, yeah. Sure. Excuse me while I scratch my many forehead wrinkles with my middle finger in a passive-aggressive attempt to let you know that I think you're a dick. He blathers something at Jack about how, if he'd known what Syd was up to, he totally would have gone to Jack with that info immediately; now that she's gone, there's nothing they can do about it. "She's got forty hours to find [Slater]," he says. "So why not support her? Give her backup?" The bristles on the back of Jack's neck rise. "If it's not obvious to you by now," he spits, "everything I do is in the service of protecting Sydney. For all we know, [Spy Wife's] working with Sloane. For all we know, she was a conspirator in her husband's abduction which means Sydney could be walking into a trap."
Vaughn's all, right, or Spy Wife ISN'T working with Sloane and Syd ISN'T about to walk into a trap and Spy Wife ISN'T your non-dead non-ex-wife and Syd's IS about to save Slater's ASS. "This. Is. Not. A. Debate," snits Jack. "And just because you've gotten comfortable with my daughter, doesn't mean you should get comfortable with me. If you don't report your contact with Sydney immediately, I will take action that you will regret." Hee! Well, now, that was just a fabulous barrelful of monkeys on hash, my friends. Truly.
Moscow. City Of Lenin, Ballet, And The Faded-But-Still-Glorious Sandunovskiye Baths Where Aging Russian Men Enjoy The Occasional Beer While Steaming Themselves Silly. Okay. I don't really know where this scene is coming from or why it's even included in the damn show in the first place, but I get paid to recap stuff, even when it's incredibly dumb, so I'm just going to stick a hypo loaded with barbiturates into my left temporal lobe and shut the fuck up and type. Syd enters some bar, and she's dressed like a bastard version of a Mandrell sister. Seriously. She's head-to-toe urban cowgirl over here. Shiny black cowboy boots, spangly black boot-cut pants, sequined black cowboy shirt, and a black cowboy hat with shiny gold mirrors all over it. And her hair? Oh. Her hair. Sweeties? Her hair's so big, I think it actually entered the room about twenty minutes before her body did.
There's a mechanical bull in the center of the room, and some loudmouth Russian "cowboy" is heckling the guy who just got tossed from its leathery seat. Syd's got her mark. She moves in for the kill. Well, actually, she tips her hat down and pretty much Lone Ranger-s her way over to him. Syd tries to get the guy to talk to her, but her hideous Russian accent pisses him off and he demands that she ride the bull or they don't talk AT ALL. Syd turns and looks at the bull and, without an accent, goes, "Oh, god." Hee. And then...well, then Syd rides the bull. There is NO reason for this scene at all. I mean, other than to give all the boys out there in the audience some mental imagery for their daily wanking sessions.
After wasting our time on the bull, Syd walks back over to Reuben Cowboy and says, "Something like that?" He's all, yeah, that'll do, Elmira, that'll do. Then they do a couple of shots and Syd finally asks him for the tracking device she needs. He agrees to get it for her for fifty thousand American bucks and Syd agrees without missing a beat.
Mama Hari Lite's Den Of Delights. Jack enters Spy Wife's cell, and she demands to see her son. Jack, in Russian, says, "There's a slight trace of Ukrainian in your voice." Spy Wife responds, also in Russian, "That's where my parents were from, but I've never been there." And yes, both of their accents are absolutely deplorable, but it's so cool watching Victor Garber speak a foreign language that I really could give a shit. Jack continues grilling Spy Wife in Russian. Finally, she's like, okay, ENOUGH with the Russian bullying, dude. My family's all that matters to me. Jack's like, yeah, would that be the family you MANUFACTURED in order to steal classified information? "You don't know anything about me," Spy Wife snaps. "You couldn't BE more wrong," volleys Jack. Spy Wife's like, wait a minute. You're Syd's dad, right? Irina Derevko's husband? Wow. You have issues, dude. Jack's like, oh, you don't know the HALF of it, sweetheart. I'm an expert on chicks like you, okay? It started as a job, right? A duty to your country. And it TOTALLY didn't bother you that you had to WHORE YOURSELF OUT LIKE COMMON TRASH.
Spy Wife starts slowly breaking down as Jack starts really putting the screws to her. "It was a small price to pay for servicing the motherland," he sneers. "At first everything went as planned. Then, surely an accident, you got pregnant. You considered terminating the pregnancy but, selfishly, you didn't. You hoped, somehow, that becoming a mother would redeem you, would absolve your guilt." That's it for Spy Wife. "You're WRONG!" she shouts. "But you continued to lie and deceive both your husband and your son!" he snaps. "I am NOT Irina Derevko!" she spits, crying a bit more. "I PROBABLY CARE MORE ABOUT YOUR SON THAN YOU DO!" grits Jack. Dayum. That's cold. "That is NOT true!" she counters. "If I have my way," he chills at her, "you're never going to see your son again. "Don't you DARE take my son away from me!" she shrieks, totally hysterical now. "Don't you take my son away!" Then she completely loses it and starts sobbing as she lowers her head. Jack is at a complete and total loss. He just stands there, his composure disheveled, and his expression one of, "Huh. Okay. I think I may need to reevaluate this one. Yeah. I think I'll just go pay a visit to my good old friend Jim Beam and ponder this for a day or ten..." The whole scene rocks my world, though. Both Middendorf and Garber are tremendous throughout the entire thing.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Oops Center, Agent Sean's cell rings; it's Syd on the other end. She asks him to toss the phone to Vaughn, which he does. By the way, Michael Vartan in an oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up? Yeah. About nine thousand degrees of yummers. Syd tells her boyfriend that she's located Slater, and he's in some building in Spain. Vaughn's all, yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Your dad's convinced that you're about to walk into a trap, and I'm not convinced he's wrong. Oh, and I'm supposed to convince you to come home. Syd's all, sure, I'll come home. Vaughn's like, wow, that was easy. Syd's like, yeah, I'll come home. WHEN I HAVE SLATER IN MY BACK POCKET.
Vaughn's all, okay, then. I'm coming with you. Syd's all, oh, honey, that's sweet. But really, I can handle this whole "kidnapping Slater from his kidnappers" thing on my own. Just sit over there and look precious, okay? Vaughn's all, well, I can look precious in Spain, you know. Meet me in the alley behind the Gandra Hotel. Agent Sean just shakes his head at his platonic so-not-gay boyfriend. "Jack is gonna shoot you in the face," he snarks. Hee. Vaughn's all, yeah, whatever, you girl. Just gimme a half-hour head start. "If we wind up sharing a cell in federal prison," says Agent Sean, keeping with the snark, "I'm not giving you a drawer." Oh, Agent Sean. You're so naïve. You won't be "giving" Vaughn anything unless it’s the business end of your Wee Willy Wonka over there.
And before you can say it, EW!
Ovary Electric. Will and Francinator are smooching on the sofa. Ooh. Bradley Cooper looks like a good kisser. Dayum. Suddenly, Will separates himself from her, and even though he's fully dressed and Francinator's in a negligee, he announces that he has to go take a shower. The hell? Oh, and he's holding a bowl of cereal. The whuh? So, what, they woke up, Will got dressed, poured out some Froot Loops, parked it on the sofa, Francinator made the moves, and now, NOW he's taking a shower? What in the FUCK is going on around here?
Oh, whatever. While Will's in the plot device -- erm, I mean, "shower" -- Francinator does something funky with his cell phone. Once she's done, she evilly looks around the apartment, evilly reclines back into the sofa, and evilly continues sipping her coffee. She's evil. Did you get that?
Oops Center. Will's doodling on some papers at his desk. He gets up and smacks right into Marshall. Marshall, of course, being, well, Marshall, immediately engages in some oral diarrhea and just yammers at Will about topics ranging from being the new guy to parking way the hell far away to nearby gyms. Will's saved from any more verbal dribble when his cell phone rings. He tries to politely excuse himself, but Marshall just stands there like, "Oh, hey, you go ahead! I'll wait." Then Will more bluntly tells Marshall to get the hell out of there and Marshall skitters off, asking Will to have lunch with him some time. Aw. Marshall lurves Will.
Will takes the call, and it's Francinator. She's pretending that her computer's down and she needs him to look up a recipe for her. Oh, this is really stupid. Will pushes his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose (sigh...nerd sexy...sigh...) and asks her what the name of the site is. "www.bouillabaissecentral.com," she says. What? WHAT? Are they kidding with this shit? And what is up with Francie and bouillabaisse? Isn't that one of the first recipes she made Syd taste at her restaurant way back in the beginning? So, like, if she's made it once, don't you think she, I don't know, ALREADY KNOWS HOW TO MAKE IT? They couldn't have made it like, gumbo or fricassee or shirred eggs or something? Anything would have been better than fucking BOUILLABAISSE. Grrr. So, as Will logs into the computer, Francinator's monitoring his access. While she's talking to him, she gains access to the system itself and locates the Tuscany footage. She gives an evil little smile. By the way, Francinator's evil. Were you aware of that?
Spain. Favored Leisure Land Of Goya, Picasso, Dali, And A Little-Known Raging Alcoholic By The Name Of Hemingway. Syd's chilling out in some alley when a car pulls up. Vaughn gets out, and they kiss and hug. Vaughn's all, "How much time do we have?" "Twelve minutes," says Syd. "Did you bring gear?" "Did I bring gear?" quips Vaughn. He opens up the trunk of the car, and he and Syd outfit themselves with the latest in Super-Sexy Spy technology.
Vaughn tells her that five figures have been picked up by satellite inside the building. Syd says something about her mother and Sloane possibly being inside that building. Vaughn's all, yeah, I know. Oh, and they probably won't surrender, you know? So, like, this time? YOU'LL ACTUALLY HAVE TO NOT MISS YOUR MOTHER WITH YOUR BULLETS. Syd's all, yeah, whatever. You're cute when you're reprimanding me on my shooting non-ability. Then Vaughn gets even cuter when he says, "Not that I'm huge fan of you disobeying the CIA but that was pretty good...the way you got away..." He gives her this huge grin. Good holy Mary on a pontoon, Michael Vartan is gorgeous.
Satan Sloane's Silo Of Secrecy. Sloane's torturing himself by watching the footage of his wife's demise. He does a little computer work and discovers that it was, indeed, Dixon who shot Auntie Em. Agent Avenger slams his hand down on the desk and picks up the phone. "Yeah, it's me," he says. "I need you to do something else for me." We don't see who he's talking to, but we can only imagine that it's Francinator and he's pretty much going to tell her to drop Dixon like a two-dollar whore with herpes.
Wow. I really should stop watching Harvey Keitel films before I go to bed at night. I blame Owen. He has a sick thing for really bad cop movies, and Bad Lieutenant may very well be the WORST.
At the same time, Slater's back at his desk, working at the computer, his wounded leg chained to a pole. Sarkie's sitting across from him, reading the latest Lenore compilation. Slater's trying to buy some time or something, because he starts messing with Sark; guessing his age, asking him why he's working for a guy like Sloane. "What do you expect to get out of all of this?" asks Slater. Sark drops the comic and leans forward. "I was sent to school in England at a very young age," he says. "Out of necessity, one becomes self-reliant and perhaps prematurely ambitious. I'm like anyone, [Slater]. What I want is that which I never had." Okay, that tells us SO much about you, Sark. Thanks for that exercise in futility.
"You're gonna kill me, aren't you?" Slater wisely surmises. "You wouldn't have shared any of that stuff with me if you expected me to live." Sark just smirks at him and suggests that he get back to work. At the same time, Syd and Vaughn race across the roof of the building. And we're running and we're running. Once inside, there's more running. Once again, Syd has neglected to pull her hair back for this little mission, so it's just out there, flying in the wind.
One of Sloane's Minions of Doom happens upon Syd and Vaughn, and some serious ass-kicking ensues. Another Minion shows up, and Syd and Vaughn shower him with bullets. This isn't terribly bright on their parts, because as soon as the bullets fly, everyone in the building is notified that something's amiss. Back with Slater, Sark hears the shots and orders another Minion to check out the commotion. Then he glances at Slater, who obviously thinks that his goose? She is cooked. Instead, Sark just nabs the disk out of Slater's laptop and sort of sneers at him.
Elsewhere in the building, Vaughn's cornered by the third Minion. He orders Vaughn to drop his gun and raise his hands, which Vaughn quickly does. Syd, of course, shows up behind the Minion, and more joint ass-kicking ensues. Vaughn and Syd finally make it to Slater, and Syd asks him if Sloane or Irina are anywhere in the building. Slater's all, nuh-uh, but some blond dude just took off. Vaughn goes after Sark, and Sydney starts laying out some surgical tools.
Slater's all, what in the HELL kind of acid are YOU on, sister? At the same time, Vaughn chases after Sark. Chasing and chasing. Shooting and shooting. Back with Surgery Syd and Stubbly Slater, she tries to fill him in on his traitorous spy of a wife. Slater's all, oh, yeah, that? The spy thing? Yeah, I knew all about that. I'm NSA and I was recruited out of Caltech 'cuz I was a target and they knew I was gonna be approached by some skanky Russian spy bitch.
Just then, another guard enters, and Slater quickly shoots him dead with Syd's gun. Syd's totally flabbergasted. "I knew [Spy Wife] was a spy the day we met," he finishes. Syd's like, oh, okay, fine. Whatever. All I care about is that you have a cyanide tablet in your arm and we have to get it out, like, NOW. Slater's all, the whuh? With the whuh whuh? But she wouldn't do that! Syd's all, oh, sure -- SHE wouldn't, but her HANDLERS would! And she's a SPY, dude. She's capable of pretty much anything.
Once again, we're back with Vaughn and Sark and the chasing and the shooting. Vaughn heads up onto the rooftop in pursuit of Sark, but he's gone buh-bye. Back again with Syd 'n' Slater, Slater's all, when in the HELL did my wife implant this fucking thing in me? And did she do it during oral sex somehow? Because THAT would be cool. Syd's all, uh, it was right after you met, and NO it didn't happen during oral sex. Because EW! Syd finally gets to the surgical portion of the show, wherein she takes a fucking scalpel to Slater's forearm and digs around in his viscera with a pair of tweezers. It's sick and wrong and completely disgusting, not to mention totally unrealistic.
Yeah. I know. Leave logic at the door. More liquid acid for the recapper, please!
Mama Hari Lite's Den Of Delights. Slater limps in, and he and Spy Wife embrace and kiss and they are SO totally in love with each other. Christian Slater still does it for me. I have no idea why. But even the quick kiss he gives Middendorf is hot. Syd watches their reunion and exits to Oops Center.
Spy Daddy approaches her, and Syd blathers at him about leaving Vaughn out of whatever punishment he might have planned for her. Jack surprises Sydney, and us, by announcing that Vaughn will be escorting La Familia Slater to Bainbridge Island, where Spy Wife will be granted defector status. "She is not Irina Derevko," Jack concludes. Syd says something about how they downloaded the DNA database that Slater was decoding and now, finally, they have a lead on Sloane and Derevko. Jack sort of smiles and says, "Good." She smiles back at him, and Jack goes, "Sydney, if you go around me again, I'll have you transferred. And finding them will no longer be a part of your job description." Hee! I love it when Jack wrongly uses his powers to get all Big Bad Daddy on his little girl.
Restaurant Of Soon-To-Be-Dead Diane Dixon. I'm sorry, but it's true. Vaughn and Syd and the Dixons are out on a double date. Mrs. Dix apologizes to Syd for pretty much being a bitch to her not too long ago. Basically, she's just killing time until, well, the killing time. Mrs. Dix goes on to say that she accepts what her husband does for a living, and Dixon announces that he rescinded the transfer order. He's sticking with the field work. He and his nearly dead wife hold hands.
Oops Center. Marshall skitters up to Jack and blabbles, "Hi, listen, I was doing some spelunking on the CIA network, mapping it, really, just for kicks, and well, you can relax because the Death Star plans are not in the main computer!" Heh. I love Marshall. Jack just shoots him a look like, "What in the FUCK are you on about?" Marshall blabbles some more about computers and viruses and don't get me STARTED on fucking viruses and Jack finally snaps, "Marshall! Please. English." Marshall finally just says that he found a massive information hemorrhage (ew!) and that someone without authorization accessed the system and downloaded footage from Tuscany. Jack's all, we're on a secure system, dude. How'd they hack in? Marshall's all, well, see, that's the thing. They didn't hack in. It came from inside this office! Oh, great. Now Will's gonna be on Jack's shit list ONCE AGAIN.
Back at The Restaurant Of Soon-To-Be-Dead Diane Dixon, the kids are milling around outside, waiting for the valets to bring their cars around. Dix is amazed that the CIA has season tickets to the Lakers. An SUV pulls up, and Mrs. Dix tells Dix that she'll see him later, after she's gotten the kids. From where? The Nightcare Nanny? There's NO reason for Mrs. Dix to be in another car. I mean, no reason other than allowing HER to be blown to bits and NOT Dixon.
So, she gets in the car and pulls out. Dixon starts to get into his car, but gets right back out again to say something to Syd and Vaughn. Before he can get more than one word out, however, Mrs. Dix's SUV gets blown sky-high. From near the accident scene, we see Francinator, in her own SUV, closing up her hand little detonator, smiling her evil little smile as she hears Dixon scream, "Diane! DIANE! NOOOO!" Francinator drives off in pursuit of even more evil activities with which to occupy herself..
time on Alias: Yet another repeat. Seriously. Dudes. I feel so sorry for anyone who covers shows on HBO. Like, their shit is NEVER preempted or replaced with repeats just because. I'm truly digging the one week on, one week off schedule here. Truly. That being said, CAN WE GET TWO NEW EPISODES IN A ROW ALREADY? Gah.