A/N: This will be slightly darker than my last story. It's a one-shot, like most of my stuff. I don't own any of the characters, character motivations, or gadgets within, but I do claim credit (or blame, whichever you prefer) for the idea behind this story. I think the Charah fans will understand my motivation, but everyone else, just stick with it to the end.
It was after midnight, and Diane Beckman just wanted to sleep. Even without Team Bartowski's FUBAR of a mission, she had had a really crappy day, what with having to appease her higher-ups that Team Bartowski was, despite evidence to the contrary, operating efficiently, signing stack after stack of orders for everything from interrogation and execution orders to requisition forms for general supplies, and dealing with the other hundred and one headaches that came with her position. She clapped twice loudly, and the lights went off. Even in her exhausted state-of-mind, she found some humor in the jingle for the product she had just used. Clap on, clap off, the Clapper. She climbed into her queen-sized bed, pulled her Egyptian cotton sheets up to her neck and settled in for a restful and much-deserved night's sleep. Unfortunately, she would have no such luck tonight. Twenty minutes later, a series of repeating beeps shook her from her half-dozing state.
"Report," she said wearily as she turned on the monitor next to her bed. It took a minute for her to realize who was on the other side: Agent Walker. "Agent Walker, what do you mean by calling me in the middle of the night? And what are you wearing? Are you at…" She scowled at Agent Walker's lack of decorum in this situation. It was past midnight, and here she was, in nothing but a negligee and panties, calling her superior officer. Whatever this was had better be a matter of national security. No, never mind, she was too tired to deal with Agent Walker's latest head trip concerning her partner. "Agent Walker," she said in her most authoritative voice, "I am going back to bed. We will discuss your disregard for protocol in the morning. Good night," and she pressed the button to cut out the transmission.
The only strange thing was… the transmission was not cut. The monitor stayed on, with Agent Walker staring at her like she had done the spy a great, personal wrong. She pushed the button again, but nothing happened. She could not understand what was going on, but something started niggling in the back of her mind, something she had seen in Graham's files on Sarah Walker.
"I'm sorry to be so blunt, General, but you aren't going anywhere until we've had words." Walker said this as if she was keeping the monitor on by sheer force of will. "We need to talk about the future of Chuck Bartowski, General. You told us today that you would be putting your backup plan into action, that Chuck would be moved to a secure location. I'm afraid I can't allow that. Chuck means too much to me for you to scoop him up and drop him into a padded cell for the rest of his life."
"Agent Walker," General Beckman said with a measure of forced calm, "I have not approved of your relationship with Agent Bartowski. I think it reckless and endangering to both of your lives. Your performance in the field today was proof enough of that. He was put in harm's way by your unwillingness to let him work on his own. Instead, your mothering of his innocence, which you claim is part of the reason you have compromised yourself for him, made him a hostage for Ring agents. The only reason he is still alive is because of Col. Casey's quick thinking." She was working herself into a lather. She had meant it when she said that it was about damn time Walker and Bartowski got together, but she also knew the risks and consequences if their relationship were to compromise their efficacy in the field, which it obviously had. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, Agent Walker?" The spy just stared at her for a few moments, still giving that feeling of wanting to do horrible things to her, and then the monitor clicked off. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have averted another crisis, and then sniffed the air as she took in another breath. Something was burning. She could smell smoke coming from nearby. She clapped her hands twice and found the source was the monitor on which she had just finished talking to Agent Walker. What in the world? She thought as she examined the smoking piece of technology.
There was a great flash, and she was blinded for a moment. As the spots cleared from her vision, she saw the same young woman physically standing in her bedroom, staring her down as though she'd like nothing more than to kill her. "Oh, my God. Agent Walker, what is the meaning of this? How did you even get here? How do you even know where I live?"
"When I killed that Fulcrum operative, General," Sarah said, her voice full of deadly calm and a little mocking to Diane's title. "I told Chuck that I would never let anyone hurt him, that I would always protect him. I told him the same thing when we went AWOL, that it was my job to protect him. Even when it wasn't my job anymore, I would still do it," she said with more passion. "I told Casey as much when you sent him after us in France. As much as I love being a spy, I love Chuck more. I love him more than anything I've ever known." She returned her voice to a neutral state, "Now, you have threatened to take him away, to take away his happiness and replace it with stone walls, and barred doors, and 24-hour security," she said as pieces of her beige negligee and what looked like even bits of skin began to flake off, smoldering like ashes in a fireplace, and revealing an odd, skintight outfit of a striking green with opera gloves almost running to her shoulders, thigh-high boots, and a sash around her waist all a brilliant gold, and in the center, nestled between her breasts, a large, black triangle with a golden avian figure inside fitted perfectly against the black.
General Beckman had seen a lot in her career, more than she wanted to, more than she could believe some times. When she had read about Sarah Walker and the entity the girl had named Phoenix, she was understandably skeptical. She saw the makings of a good field agent, but the so-called Phoenix was obviously just a coping mechanism the young girl had used to avoid anything unpleasant in her early life. It was obvious now, too, as she watched the blonde-haired woman ignite and douse her own hands that the Phoenix was very much real. She knew, too, that she would likely not survive the night. "Sarah," she started, forced calm still in her voice. What she really wanted to do was pull her sidearm from under her pillow and empty the clip, but she knew that was a one-way ticket to a fiery end. "Sarah, you have to think about what is best for the country," she said, trying to find an avenue of reason that intersected with the insane lady's across from her. "Placing Mr. Bartowski…"
"Chuck," Sarah said as she created a model of the man out of flame.
Diane continued, "Placing Chuck underground is the best option for all involved. The Ring is everywhere, and we cannot risk the Intersect falling into their hands. At one of our safehouses, we can monitor him and keep him from harm. We want the same thing: to protect Chuck. It is only our methods that differ. Please, Sarah, you must understand."
"I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that," she said with a sadistic smirk, knowing Chuck would find it amusing. She could tell the General was going to try another approach, but she was tiring of listening to her. She pinched her fingers together, robbing the General of the breath to start her next argument. "I promised Chuck nothing would ever hurt him, and I mean to keep that promise, General," she said as she raised her hands above her head, the roiling fireball growing ever larger.
The next day found Chuck and Sarah enjoying their lunch break at Orange Orange. After not being whisked away to an undisclosed location, Chuck had spent the morning arguing and gaming with Morgan. He had just been explaining the finer points of that argument: which game was better, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 or M.A.G. Sarah just listened; she could listen to him for hours. She didn't really care for the topic under discussion. Video games were more Chuck's thing, whereas she was more likely to consider an afternoon well-spent at the gym or firing range. Chuck had never been much for the gym, despite his skinny frame. She had tried to get him to go with her, but to no avail. It was just as well, as she could think of other things they could do to build up muscle tone. She was just considering one such workout session this evening when she noticed two men in dark suits approaching their table.
"Agent Sarah Walker?" one man said in a voice that brooked no foolishness.
"Yes, may I help you gentlemen?" Sarah replied in a sincere manner.
"We need you to come with us, ma'am," the man all but demanded.
"For what purpose?" She asked in a playful tone as she intertwined her fingers with Chuck's.
"We need to ask you some questions regarding the fate of General Diane Beckman," the other man said.
"May I ask what has happened to our dear commanding officer?" Sarah asked in her playful tone, betraying no hint of remorse or worry.
"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to say in public, ma'am. Would you please come with us?" the second man said again.
"I'm having lunch with my boyfriend, as you can plainly see, gentlemen. Come back later," she said with a dismissive air, as if they were flies buzzing about her.
The first man put his strong hand on Sarah's upper arm, as if to lift her bodily from her seat, but let go seconds after touching her, looking at his reddened hand where he had been burned. "Don't make me angry, gentlemen. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," she said with a smirk to Chuck, who smiled weakly in spite of the situation in front of him. He might have been a die-hard DC comics man, but he did like The Hulk. They pulled their sidearms quietly and asked again. Sarah got up , motioning to Chuck to stay seated. "This won't take long, honey," she said as she ran her fingers up his arm. She would protect Chuck, no matter what. She would make sure no one ever hurt him again.
A/N: Anyone still there? For those of you who are, yes, I turned Sarah into the Phoenix from X-Men comics. Kudos to my good friend Classic Cowboy for the idea to use the more character-driven Wolverine and the X-Men Phoenix origin, wherein a person, in this case, Sarah, is born with the Phoenix inside them, manifesting in stressful situations from which it appears there is no escape. Love it? Hate it? Please review and let me know, but no flames. No one likes flames. ;)