Sleeping with the Enemy
APR
Grand Isle, LA
May 2010
Day 0
He's been feeling 'off' since he'd been forced to absorb the Fulcrum download not once, but twice when they ran the 'Burbs op. The second time he'd been more concerned with making sure Sarah was protected from the visual death sentence and that Casey was in the clear and hadn't paid much attention to the images. One nice thing about Fulcrum's download was the absence of a headache that usually hurt so bad that he passed out.
His cell rang and he squirmed to fish it out of his suit pants. Unknown Caller.
"This is…"
"Hello, Chuck. Execute Prometheus. I say again, 'Execute Prometheus.' I'll see you soon, baby."
His eyes fluttered and then rolled up into the back of his head and he threw up and lost control of the Prius as subliminal images poured through his mind.
12 Hours Later
Diane Beckman was in a rage. Almost 2 years of planning and operations have been rendered moot by the assassination of one of the nation's most valuable intelligence assets. Major Casey had wrapped up the investigation quickly and professionally. There had been two explosive devices employed, one in the man's cell phone and another, significantly larger and more deadly, electronically triggered by the smaller device in the cell phone.
The second explosive device had been in the battery of the Prius driven by the host. It consisted of several NSA-issued 'disintegrators' used whenever it was essential that not even the minutest scrap of organic material could be found to make identification of the victim possible. There would be no remains, of course, due to the intense heat and energy created and then released in such a confined space. They were 'daisy-chained' together to create an immolating fireball that reduced even the vehicle chassis to slag.
Toyota would have public relations disaster on their hands but that was their problem. She had problems of her own.
Someone wanted the all traces of the host gone. Why?
Day 5
Residential Hotel
Burbank, CA
She'd cried herself to sleep. They'd argued. All he'd ask for was some hint that what he felt for her was reciprocated. He told her that he loved her and asked her if she felt anything for him. She'd steeled herself and quashed the overwhelming desire to scream 'YES!' at the top of her lungs and crush him in an embrace.
But she didn't. She couldn't. There had already been questions about her relationship with the asset. She knew she was under close scrutiny, probably even bugged in her hotel room (although that was supposed to be against the rules but he was the host and rules were bent and broken because of him).
The mission in the damned suburbs had rubbed his wound raw and he was becoming persistent.
"No, Chuck. I'm sorry. It's all a cover. I'm a professional and there's no place in my life or career for compromise. I have a mission to accomplish. Being close to you is…nice and I really like you as a friend, but you're the job, the intersect, and I have to protect you without allowing the kind of feelings you have to cloud my judgment."
"A friend. OK. Well, friend, I guess it's OK to date other women then. After all, you have Bryce here occasionally and don't deny it, please, don't. He's made a point of 'dropping by' and letting me know he's been 'in town' and was staying with you."
"Chuck, you can't. You'll endanger the cover. Beckman won't like it and I don't know if I'll be able to keep you out of 'protective custody' if you do something so stupid. There are rules, Chuck…" Damn Bryce Larkin to hell! He just couldn't resist taunting his friend. They'd been over for a while and he still refused to take 'no' for an answer.
"It's your cover, Agent Walker. I don't need a cover. You and Casey need it to explain your presence in my life, don't you? Well, 'friend', no point in staying here kicking a dead horse. I get it, Agent Walker. I'll accept your presence in my public life but stay the hell out of my private one."
He'd stormed out of her hotel room and out of her life. Casey called her with the code black and things went to hell for her from that point on.
And now she had to attend a mass and a wake. She had to. Orders. She took a tranquilizer the CIA issued for just such situations and let it numb the pain until she was totally immune to anything emotional.
There was no funeral service because there was no body. There was a brief mass and then a gathering of family and friends at the Bartowski apartment. She'd managed to stave off a meltdown until Ellie had hugged her and whispered that she would always be a member of the family because she'd loved her brother so deeply and had made him so happy.
That had been the final straw. She'd run from the apartment and she hadn't stopped until she'd reached her car and driven back to her hotel room. Thanks to the Agency, she wouldn't have to stay in Burbank another day. She could run somewhere else, become someone else, and forget all about the tall man she'd fallen hopelessly in love with but had she'd denied herself.
Day 23
John Casey had decided to retire from the NSA after Chuck's death. He had his 20+ years and he took the reduced pension and just stayed where he was before any of this happened. He actually liked working at the Buy More although he'd never admit it. And he was glad he'd made that decision.
Ellie and Devon had split up after Chuck's death and Devon finished his residency and went off to do good works in Africa. At least that was the official story. That was the story Ellie believed. Casey figured it was because Eleanor Bartowski had slipped into a grief cycle and he just couldn't handle it. He always thought Devon was selfish, shallow and weak and leaving a woman he supposedly loved when she'd just experienced the loss of her brother confirmed this.
Casey and Ellie had become better friends and Casey had spent many evenings talking with her about her brother. One night after dinner and a little too much wine, she was going on about how he'd lost his spark, his drive and ambition and how she had been so disappointed in him and that he probably wouldn't have amounted to much without some 'outside intervention'.
That bothered Casey. He broke protocol after swearing her to secrecy. She laughed at his demand for her 'word of honor' but she saw something different about him. Something scary and so she'd given her word. She was a Bartowski and never broke her word.
He told her everything. She heard the part of the story including his instructions to kill her brother if and when it became necessary. He was vague about the intersect but specific about Chuck's use of it and the missions they'd run. He was about halfway through when she'd told him to leave and never come back.
The next evening a teary-eyed and apologetic Ellie asked him to come back and finish his story. She was sorry and she had something to show him. They walked back to the apartment together. She'd shocked Casey by holding his hand and not letting go despite his obvious discomfort. "I won't bite you, Major."
"I was cleaning out his room, deciding what to keep, what to give Morgan or the guys from the Buy More and what to throw out. I took down his Tron poster and found this on the backside."
Casey grunted and then started to laugh. It was an entire flow chart of the past 22 months with identities, suppositions and organizational notes. The boy had been a genius. It would have been only a matter of time before he would have figured it all out. And it had been right there under Casey's nose (and camera) the entire time.
"John, come finish your story." She led him by the hand back to her bedroom.
Day 55
Winter, Nevada
He woke up with a headache and a foul taste in his mouth. He knew that taste. Booze and cigarettes. A nasty combination. He lay there in the dark looking up at the ceiling.
Someone stirred beside him and for a minute he wondered if he'd been bar hopping and gotten lucky. He glanced at his wrist to check the time and saw a Rolex instead of his NSA-issued tracer watch.
"Honey, go back to sleep. I put Advil and a water glass on the nightstand for you. Take them and try to get some sleep. We have a huge day ahead of us."
He knew that voice. It couldn't be.
"Jill?"
"Chuuuuck, it's 3:30! Have a heart, honey. Go back to sleep. You drank too much and you and Casey stayed up half the night talking about Portland. Honestly, you both need to let it go. It wasn't anyone's fault. I know he's our boss but I'm glad he's gone back to DC. Maybe you'll knock off trying to drink Nevada dry and pay attention to me for a change."
"Sorry. Go back to sleep. I think a warm shower will loosen me up enough to sleep. Sorry, Jill." He'd play along until he could get a better handle on the situation. Casey was their boss? Their?
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. He caught his reflection in the mirror and staggered a bit in the bright light. His hair was cut differently to hide a wicked scar along the side of his temple that ended just above the ear. He was sporting a closely-trimmed beard that had a streak of gray near his chin. It was neatly trimmed and he vaguely remembered someone saying that it would help with time dilation.
He removed the Rolex and checked out the backside. There was an inscription: 'Forever ~Jill ~2005'. He was wearing a wedding band, tasteful and functional. He took the two Advil but was fully awake. He brushed his teeth to get rid of the taste.
He walked down the hall from their bedroom into the living room. There were engineering (his) and biology and genetics texts (hers) on the bookcase shelves as well as pictures…
There was a picture of a beardless Chuck and Jill, with Devon and Ellie and a smiling John Casey, all dressed in formal wear except Casey who in uniform. He could make out the silver eagles of a full Colonel on his epaulets and an engagement and wedding ring on Jill's hand.
The next picture was of Chuck, Sarah, Casey and Bryce taken in the apartment in Burbank. Sarah was sitting on Bryce's lap with her arm around his neck. They were all smiling. He could see Ellie and Devon in the kitchen in the background.
The third photograph was in an ornate silver frame. It was a wedding photograph of Chuck and Jill, bride and groom, obviously in love.
He sat down on the couch and held the wedding portrait, for that's what it was, staring at it, unable to remember anything at all after…after when he wasn't sure.
Toned arms snaked around him from behind and a sleep-husky voice spoke softly in his ear. "We've gotten older, honey, that's all. The love is still there, believe me. It's so unfair. I'm getting wrinkles and you're just getting better looking, distinguished even."
"Jill, was I – was I hurt or something? I – I don't remember these. Don't get angry, Jill, it's just that…"
"Stop. The memories are still there, I know they are. It's only been a year, Chuck, and you were so close to dying. Quit pushing yourself. They'll come back in time. I spent 3 months beside your bed holding your hand, not knowing if you were coming back. Three months, Chuck."
"I don't remember any of that. I don't remember…"
"Well, I do. I remember fighting with Casey and Ellie about your damned living will. They wanted to pull the plug, Chuck, but I knew - I knew you were in still in there and I was right. I was right to hold on! I knew you wouldn't break your promise. I knew you wouldn't leave me behind." She sounded sad and desperate. He could feel her tears on his face.
"I'm sorry. Please don't cry, Jill. Let's get you back to bed. You said we had a full day ahead of us."
She hopped over the back of the couch and then into his lap, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him lightly. "Actually, Chuck, I said we have a 'huge' day ahead of us. Our first mission together after all this time on the inactive list." Her eyes were bright with tears but she was smiling. "I'm so happy but I'm scared, too. I want you to remember your promise. Stay in the damned van for the next few missions until you're back on your game, Chuck. You promised me, Chuck."
"Jesus, you sound just like Sarah." It was the natural thing to say. At least it was the natural thing he would say.
"They're gone, Chuck. Nothing we do will bring them back. Sarah and Bryce are dead. You almost died and I – I lost our baby." She saw the look of shock on his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lost her. I'm sorry. I've gone over Portland a hundred times but I can't see where you could have done anything else. I know you feel guilty about our baby girl but we can try again, Chuck. It just wasn't meant to be this time. We can try again, honey."
She curled up against him, wrapping her fists in his t-shirt and cried, huge sobs wracking her small frame and all Chuck could do was hang on to her and croon nonsense syllables into her hair. We've lost a baby?
If I haven't hooked you, no great loss. APR