Sydney suddenly embraces Willage and whispers that he can't tell anyone about this. She begs him to promise her that he won't say a word. He promises. She starts to cry as French Guy and his cohorts cart him off. "I'll see you at home," she sobs. "And tell Lypsinka I'll have her wig back to her by tomorrow afternoon!"
Back in Hell-Lay, Uncle Arvin's doodling on some papers while chatting with Auntie Em on the speaker phone. She's babbling on about making plans for visits or some such shit, and then she says something about keeping your sense of humor. Arvin's not really listening, because he's just noticed that Alain Christophe from The Alliance is on the other line. He quickly hangs up on his soon-to-be-dead-in-some-way-or-another wife and picks up the other line. Christophe congratulates Sloane on the Paris job and tells him that, due to Em's cancer, Sloane's request to spare her life has been approved.
Before Arvin can breathe a much-needed sigh of relief, we're treated to the vision of Dixon and his wife in bed. No, not like THAT. Dirty birds. No, Dixon's having a few mini-flashbacks of his own. They involve the South American operation where Dixon got shot. Remember that? Remember, when Syd called the CIA on her phone and announced herself as "Freelancer"? Looks like Dixon heard that after all.
The next day (I'm guessing here), Dixon turns to Syd and asks her about how she hurt her arm. Syd blithers some cockamamie story about hiking in the mountains and slipping off a scree. Dixon, not buying a single second of this stupid concoction, tells Syd that she should have told him, because they're supposed to tell each other about their injuries. "Full disclosure," he says, staring at her. "Full disclosure," Syd repeats, for lack of anything better to say. They smile at each other and turn around so that Sydney can look off into the distance and wonder if Dixon knows about her, and so that Dixon can look off into the distance and wonder if Sydney knows that he knows about her.
Later that same day (again, guessing here), Syd and Dix are in Sloane's office, and Syd's saying something about Sark tipping off Khasinau. Sloane doesn't really care, because the mission was still a success. Dixon's all, but we lost Sark. Sloane's all, no worries; that wine I fed him had a radioactive isotope in it. "We've been tracking Sark since he left the club," finishes Sloane. Dixon wants to know where he is. Sloane tells him he's on a transatlantic flight and that, when he lands, hopefully with Khasinau, they'll track him and nab him. Sloane dismisses them.