Requiem
It didn't start with a Flash this time…
Chuck Bartowski, at the Buy More, was sitting at his usual station-the Nerd Herd Station. He looked up to see John Casey, he NSA handler, and all-around badass, glaring daggers at a woman who was entering the store; and if looks could kill, the woman, sad-looking and careworn, would've been very quickly reduced to ash on the Buy More's floor. Bartowski got to his feet, alarmed by the anger-no, rage-he saw in Casey's eyes. But, he was interrupted…
"Help me, Obi-Wan Chuck," Morgan Grimes grabbed his arm. "You're my only hope."
"Not now, Morgan…"the rage-filled look in Casey's eyes reminded Chuck of when the NSA agent had trashed Ty Bennet.
That's not good; not good at all…
"I need a place to hide," Morgan was oblivious to what was going on around him. "My mom invited Big Mike over for dinner and drinks…"
Morgan shuddered, no doubt over what would occur after drinks…
"It's okay," Chuck assured him. "You can hide in my room. Just don't scare Ellie this time. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
He hustled over to John Casey, and the woman who had so aroused Casey's ire.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, Karen," Casey's voice was thick with rage. "When did they let you out anyway?"
"I've been out a couple of years," the woman looked at him sadly. "If I had known you were here, I would've gone somewhere else. I was just looking for a job."
"Not here, Karen," Casey growled. "If you do, I might not be accountable for my actions."
The woman flinched at that.
"I understand," she said after a bit. "I just want to say how sorry I am ab-"
"Don't give me your apologies!" Casey spat. "I don't want to hear it. I'd shoot you in a heartbeat, but that would be a waste of good ammo."
"I understand how you feel, John, and-"
"However much you may think you understand, I can guarantee you don't know the half of it. Tommy's dead because of you!"
"I didn't kill him!"
"But you sure set him up for the fall, didn't you; you and…whatsherface…Jackie Daniels?"
That was when Chuck Flashed-Police reports, coroner's reports, and newspaper clippings downloading into his brain until he knew the whole sordid story.
"Oh, god…" he whispered, and Casey turned briefly in his direction, blue eyes colder than he had ever seen them before…
"Stay out of this, Bartowski," Casey commanded.
"I can't," Chuck lay a hand on Casey's shoulder, quickly retracting it upon the other man's warning growl. "She's done her time in the eyes of the law. Let her go, John. She's not worth it."
"Heh…" Casey seemed to pull back somehow, that berserker-rage slowly fading away. "Don't come back here, Karen. Job hunt anywhere else you want; but not here. Not on my turf."
"I'll do that, John," Karen nodded. She hesitated. "I never intended to hurt Tom. I hope you realize that. It's just that things-"
"Got out of hand, I know," Casey brushed her off. "Just…go away. I don't care what you do with your life; as long as it's far away from me."
Casey left for the Employee Break Room. Karen stared at his back, and then left the store. Chuck went back to his station, shaken by what he had learned from the Intersect.
And I thought I had it bad when Bryce got me kicked out of Stanford and stole Jill. Shows how wrong I can be…
Dinner at Casa Bartowski was a dinner for four tonight. At least Morgan Grimes was behaving himself this time.
"Is something wrong with John?" Ellie asked Chuck right out of the blue.
"Not that I know of," Chuck didn't really like lying to Ellie. Of course, that's what his life was nowadays; getting into these insane missions, and lying about them to Ellie. But, this was not anything he could say anything about anyway. It simply wasn't his tale to tell…
Ellie shrugged at Chuck's reply.
"I don't know," she said. "But he seemed really quite out of sorts when he dropped you off this afternoon. Well, I have just the thing…"
She got up and returned a minute later, with a foil-wrapped plate of tonight's dessert; Home-made Tollhouse cookies.
"Take these to John," her gently-framed request was far more order than request. "You know how much he likes these."
"Uh…Ellie?" Chuck began. "I don't think-"
"He's your co-worker, and your friend," Ellie spoke firmly. "And he needs cheering up."
Yeah… Like the Resident Geek is going to cheer Casey up. Even Tollhouse Cookies aren't up to that, I'm afraid to say…
Ellie was tapping her foot gently.
"I'm on my way," Chuck assured her.
With considerable trepidation, he made his way across the courtyard, carrying the plate of cookies carefully. Ellie would be more than a little miffed if the cookies failed to reach their designated target. Balancing the plate, he rang the doorbell…
"What is it, Bartowski?"
"Ellie sent me with a care package," Chuck held the plate up. "Home-made Tollhouse cookies?"
"Go away," Casey sounded weary. "I'm not in the mood."
"I wish I could, buddy, but Ellie will just keep on sending me back until her mission is accomplished."
Chuck heard Casey's growl, and the soft thud, Casey resting his head against the door-frame…
The locks unlatched, and the door swung open.
"Don't stand there like an idiot, Bartowski. Come in."
The first thing Bartowski saw was the recliner, all set up, an unopened bottle of Scotch sitting on the side-table.
"In here," he followed Casey's voice into the spotless kitchen. And, who would have believed that Casey was somewhat more than merely competent in the kitchen? Fact was he was very nearly as good as Ellie when it came to the culinary arts. His quiches were to die for…
Setting the foil-wrapped plate of cookies on the kitchen table, Chuck was surprised to see Casey bring out two large glasses full of milk.
"What?" Casey glared at him challengingly. "I'm not supposed to like milk and cookies?"
Chuck, very wisely, didn't say anything at all. He unwrapped the cookies, accepted a glass of milk, and took a seat, watching Casey carefully.
The man wasn't really here; eyes-and mind-a million miles away…
"You Flashed," the NSA agent finally broke the silence.
"Yeah," Chuck nodded. "On Karen…and you…"
"What did the Intersect tell you?" Casey absently dunked a cookie in his glass of milk.
Chuck took a deep breath…
"It told me you were born Jonathan Hughes, in Nineteen sixty-two, along with your identical twin brother, Thomas Hughes. He died in Nineteen Ninety-five, of a gunshot wound. There were two other deaths at the time. A guy named Kirk Daniels, and a cop; Detective Gold. Jackie Daniels-widow of Kirk Daniels-was shot, but survived to be brought to trial for the deaths of Detective Gold and Thomas Hughes. She was convicted of murder in both cases, and Karen Hughes was convicted of Insurance fraud."
Chuck ended his recital, feeling ill over the whole sordid thing. Casey nodded once, and then went back to shredding bits of cookie into his glass of milk.
"If I had only been there," he muttered. "I might have been able to keep it all from happening. I might have been able to save Tommy…"
"Casey…" Chuck began. But the word refused to come.
"I was off in Afghanistan," Casey continued, bitterness heavy in his voice. "I was fighting to preserve democracy in the world, and to protect the US from her enemies. But, I wasn't there for my brother when he really needed me. They set him up, Karen and Jackie…"
Chuck held his silence as Casey continued to speak.
"They baited Tommy into having an affair with Jackie. Now, Jackie was one of those psycho-bitches you only find in the movies. She helped Karen fake her own death, and, somehow, she got Tommy to kill her husband. I read the reports on Kirk Daniel's death. Jackie couldn't have done it. Had to have been a man; a big man, around my height and weight. And I know-I mean knew-Tommy; the kind of pushover he could be. He didn't stand a chance, caught between Karen and Jackie…"
He broke a cookie in half, nibbled it thoughtfully.
"Back when he and Karen first got married, I knew he was making a mistake. Karen is, or was back then, strictly high-maintenance. It was all about her. Her wants, and her needs, and Tommy pretty much had to fend for himself. Not that he was faultless. I mean, he coulda shown a little backbone once in a while. Maybe that might have helped a little..."
Chuck was very careful not to look directly at Casey's eyes, which were glittering just a little more than what the current lighting might allow for. But he certainly wasn't going to bring up the possibility that he was seeing tears… Not now. Not ever.
"Anyway," Casey continued. "When all the shooing was done, the police took Jackie to the hospital. They arrested Karen, and took Detective Gold to the morgue."
Chuck frowned.
"Your brother wasn't there?" he asked. "The Intersect said he died of a gunshot wound."
"Yeah," the pain in Casey's eyes deepened. "They found him on his favorite beach; he always used to run there. And that was where he went to die. He simply lay himself down, and quietly bled to death…"
"Oh, Casey…" had it been anyone else, Chuck would've hugged him, let him know he was loved. But this was John Casey, hardened NSA agent…
But, what of Jonathan Hughes, who misses his twin brother?
Casey must have sensed what was going on in Chuck's mind…
"Its okay, Bartowski. I've been through the whole grieving process. I'm fine."
"What was he like? Your brother, I mean."
"Hm…" Casey took a sip of milk, wiped off the milk mustache. "He was a pretty nice guy, actually, but far too trusting, and naïve, for his own good. He did have some pretty odd fancies, though…"
"Like, what?"
"He wanted to be a rancher," Casey smiled sadly at the memories. "Which was pretty damn silly, 'cause he wasn't any kind of a horseman. But he caught the dream from our uncle, who was a rancher."
"I don't know, John. It sounds like a pretty nice dream. It's not my dream. But it's still a nice one."
"Yeah, well…" Casey shrugged. "Instead, he lost everything, and let himself die. I guess he just wasn't strong enough. Unlike you…"
"Me?" Chuck dropped his cookie. "You can't mean that. I panic when I see guns, or blood. And I scream like a girl, and-"
"And you've been fighting back, in your own way, from Day One," Casey's eyes bored into him. "I mean, Larkin took it all away from you when he got you kicked out of Stanford, and sent you back to live with your sister, and work at a dead-end job. Then, he sends the Intersect to you, and now you've got people who want to kill you, people who want to dissect you, and people who want to send you deep underground. But you haven't given up yet, and I have to admire that in you. You may be inept-"
"Gee," Chuck murmured. "Thanks…"
"And god knows you're a pain to be with sometimes. But you're brave and loyal-to a fault sometimes-and I think that needs to be recognized. Of course, I don't need to tell you that it'll be worth your life to repeat what I've just said,"
"Got it!" Chuck nodded vigorously
"Okay," Casey got to his feet. "It's getting late. Tell Ellie thanks for the cookies."
"Will do," Chuck got to his feet, draining the last of his milk, and picking up the plate. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah…goodnight Bartowski."
"Goodnight, Casey."
Chuck went back to Casa Bartowski, the now-empty plate in one hand. Ellie was in the kitchen, putting the last of the dishes away.
"How's John?" she asked.
"He's feeling better, El. He says thanks for the cookies."
Impulsively, he hugged her tightly.
"What brought this on?" Ellie returned his hug.
"I guess we don't say, I love you, often enough. You know what I mean?"
"I know," Ellie's eyes glistened. "Morgan's in your room. He's been surprisingly patient."
Morgan was sitting at his computer desk.
"Hey, buddy" Chuck apologized. "I had to talk to Casey for a bit. You up to some Halo?"
"Since when am I not, my man? Let's rock and roll!"
John Casey was running his usual surveillance on Bartowski. But his heart wasn't really in it tonight…
His grief counselor, back when Tommy had just died, had told him it was different for twins than it was for others; that the pain of loss, the gap it made in the survivor's life was harder, in many ways, to bear.
The absence of Tommy was-even after all these years-like a gaping black hole located somewhere deep inside his chest
Even Ilsa, when he had thought her dead, hadn't hurt in quite the same way. She had been the Beloved Other. When he had thought her dead, it had been the pain all lovers feel when their loved one dies. Tommy, though…
Tommy had been part of his whole life, even before birth he and Tommy had been together. Losing Tommy had been a lot like losing a very precious piece of his own soul
"Aw…hell…" Casey muttered. From experience, he knew there was only one remedy for the soul-deep grief he was feeling right now…
Ignoring the bottle of Scotch, he pulled out a rarely-used cell phone, and dialed a number too precious to commit to any memory, save his own…
The phone rang once, was picked up.
"Hello?" the woman's voice spoke from the other end.
"Mom, its Johnny-boy…"